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BROKEN BONDS 


A NOVEL 


W. A. H. STAFFORD 




1885 

ANDREW F. UNDERHILL & CO., 
52 Broadway, New York. 


Copyright, 1885, 

BY 

W. A. H. STAFFORD & ANDREW F. UNDERHILL. 


All Rights Reserved. 


W. L. Mershon & Co., 

Printers, Electrotypers and Binders, 
Rahway, N. J. 


TO LEONORE. 





BROKEN BONDS. 


I. 

W HEN the story which I have resolved to 
tell is read, there will be some to wonder, 
and some to doubt, and not a few to discredit 
it altogether. To such I have but a word to 
say : what I here set down is true. 

The man of whom I shall so frequently speak 
in these pages as Arthur Wardwell has a real 
existence. I have known and esteemed him 
through many years of varying fortune. At 
first he was naturally reluctant to have these 
pages of his life given to the world ; and it 
was only after long and persuasive argument 
that I at last obtained his consent. I agreed 
to make use of the incidents as they occurred, 
he stipulating that the names I used should 
be fictitious. At his suggestion, I changed 
the scene of the drama, and removed it to 
places where the principal actors and their 
lives were unknown. I also resolved to intro- 
duce certain minor effects which would further 
help to conceal the identity of the characters. 


2 


BROKEN BONDS. 


And only then did he bid me Godspeed in 
my undertaking. 

Let me explain, now, that many of the facts 
in this narrative were not made known to me 
until recently ; but I intend setting down, not 
only what I was cognizant of at the time, but 
also such information as I have gained since ; 
so that, what were, when they happened, 
occurrences to me completely inexplicable, 
may be made plain to you. 

We are looking out upon a smooth stretch 
of soft green lawn, shut in on all four sides 
by an unbroken line of wide piazzas with a con- 
tinuous brick structure back of them. At one 
end where the corridor leading to the street 
commenced, were some ten or twelve musi- 
cians in the center of a chatting, laughing throng 
of men and women, youths and maidens, little 
boys and little babies, little girls in charge of 
nurses, and little shaggy dogs, which latter 
seemed to be the only animate objects upon 
which any one bestowed the smallest degree 
^solicitous attention. 

^At intervals along the white paths were 
knots, and moving, straggling groups of very 
modern young ladies and their dapper cavaliers. 
It was morning, and the rich simplicity of all the 
toilets evidenced how much thought had 
been expended upon the problem how to make 
the costliest display while obeying fashion’s 


BROKEN BONDS. 


3 


laws. To the passive observer, the scene 
had all the brightness, all the beauty of a 
tableau. We both enjoyed it quietly from our 
point of view beyond the crowd. It was 
amusing to single out a couple and watch the 
little simpering gestures with the head, the 
theatrical glances, the well-bred manifestations 
of subdued mirth ; all of which indicated that 
if the young lady was not enjoying the society 
of her male companion, at any rate she meant 
to pretend that there was some excitement in 
the little farce. For was not this the last month 
of the season ? and had it not been part of her 
education ever since she could remember any 
thing, or ever since papa made that lucky 
speculation, that this was the place, and this 
the time of all the year for the exercise of 
those arts which tradition says she must ac- 
quire and practice ? It might not be enjoy- 
ment, but it was good form. 

It was pleasant, if uncharitable, to sit there 
just out of ear shot of the nearest group and 
point out to each other the absurd characters 
in the ever changing show — the matron who 
would have been happy in the ability to for- 
get her birthdays, with form so tortured out 
of nature’s guise that the act of locomotion 
was an evidently painful task ; the girl who 
once was young, conversing in a bird-like, play- 
ful fashion, perhaps, with the offspring of the 


4 


BROKEN BONDS. 


man who years ago was on the verge of a pro- 
posal ; the belle who has for courtiers half a 
score of callow youths, all waiting hopefully 
until she may announce that she is tired and 
would seek diversion, whereupon that indi- 
vidual whom she chooses as an escort bears 
her off in triumph, while those he leaves be- 
hind mentally bestow their maledictions on 
him and their own luck. 

Arthur smiled as he turned to me ; I say. 
Van, do you remember when we were like those 
boys ? It was always the last pretty face in 
those days.” 

“Yes, and what terrible fellows we thought 
ourselves; seems a long time ago, doesn’t it? ” 

“How odd,” he said musingly, “that we 
should have escaped the nets we hadn’t sense 
enough to see were spread for us. It was an 
awfully close shave for you though, wasn’t 
it?” 

This was a very sore subject with me, and I 
by no means relished his allusion. It was of 
no use to remonstrate ; he would always have 
his own way, but I said, “ For heaven’s sake, 
won’t you some day bury that joke and find a 
new one ? ” 

“ I hardly think so,” he rejoined, still laugh- 
ing. “ You know, some one — who is it? — says 
old things are best after all. It will last my time, 
Van. Never fear.” 


BROKEN BONDS. 


5 


“ Hello, Ward well !” 1 heard some one say 
who was crossing the grass from the direction 
of the billiard room. 

“There’s that ass Jenkins,” Arthur mut- 
tered under his breath, as he rose and walked 
slowly toward the steps. The subject of this 
uncomplimentary comment was as effusive in 
his greeting as the other was calm and un- 
ruffled. “ Why, this is a surprise,” I heard him 
say in a tone which seemed to be all exclama- 
tion points. “ Where did you come from ? I 
haven’t seen you since we were in Genoa 
together.” I wonder if it was only my fancy, or 
did he really raise his voice and look around as 
he uttered the last sentence? 

“ I came from Lake George this morning,” 
Arthur replied quietly. This was not a remark 
to excite surprise ; nevertheless, the other 
exclaimed : “You don’t say ! Come over here, 
I want to introduce you to my wife. I didn’t 
know her when I saw you last. Seems strange, 
doesn’t it ? ” 

I was unable to hear more, but followed them 
with my eyes as they walked toward the music. 
— Mr. Jenkins kept fast hold of Arthur’s arm, 
as if fearful he entertained some idea of breaking 
away and making his escape. Presently they 
stopped just before a young woman who looked 
as if she might have recently recovered from 
an attack of the dropsy, her ghastly paleness 


6 


BROKEN BONDS. 


serving to accentuate the dark rings under her 
eyes. 

While he is standing there trying not to look 
bored, let me tell you who he is ; but first a 
word about myself who am introducing him. 

I am a bachelor of thirty-two. My profession 
is the law; my circumstances are easy; and my 
expectations good, for I have a very old great 
aunt who intends leaving me her houses in the 
East Side tenement district. I live at my club, 
go into society but little, and am an intimate 
with very few people. 

As far back as my memory carries me, 
Arthur Wardwell has been to me, who can not 
recollect a single near relation, all a brother 
could have been. Patient and helpful, he has 
done as much toward winning for me what little 
distinction I have achieved in • my profession, 
as my own endeavors have accomplished, 
though he laughs incredulously when I tell him 
this. 

During his boyhood his father died, leaving 
him alone in the world with a comfortable in- 
come, and fortunately he had had sufficient busi- 
ness tact to retain it, and enough ambition to 
add to it, so that now he was exceedingly 
well-to-do. 

He was not the. impossible “ perfect ” man 
some visionary -females of uncertain age and 
abnormally developed imaginations are so fond 


BROKEN BONDS. 


7 


of telling us about. He had his faults, and, 
perhaps, a too great reliance upon his own un- 
aided judgment was one of the most serious. 
He was amenable to reason until he had made 
up his mind ; when he had finally done that, 
argument and appeal were simply a waste of 
breath. I used to tell him even to kill him 
would not convince him, for he would probably 
be ready to reiterate his opinion in another 
world. 

He had no earnest purpose in life, no high 
ambition to gratify, and when I reflected how 
easily a man with such a will might attain any 
eminence he chose to covet, I could not resist 
the thought that nature sometimes makes grave 
mistakes in the distribution of brains. I was 
struggling hard in my profession, giving more 
of study to it than was conducive to good 
health, and straining’ every nerve to gain a little 
success, while he, a year my junior, without an 
arduous effort, easily out-stripped me : He 
should have looked to me for aid — instead, I 
leaned on him. 

Fortunately our tastes did not tend toward 
the same amusements. There was therefore 
not so close an intimacy as to make it likely we 
would ever quarrel over the possession of any 
thing on which we might both fix our desires. 
We had been spending our summer vacation in 
the Adirondacks, and while he sketched, I 


8 


BROKEN BONDS. 


fished ; there could be no rivalry, and as a 
natural consequence there were no bickerings. 
We had agreed that it would be a pleasant 
change to stop for a few days at Saratoga, and 
here we were at one of the two large hotels. 
We expected to weary of it in a day or two, and 
would then go to Newport, and so home — that 
is, back to the club. 

When I was finally tired of solitary commun- 
ion with my thoughts, I walked in the direction 
Arthur had taken, and soon, looking over the 
heads of a bevy of chattering misses, saw him 
talking to the lady whom Mr. Jenkins was sur- 
prised he had not married before he had seen. 
He caught my eye and beckoned to me. 
I elbowed my way to where he stood, and was 
presented to Mrs. Jenkins and Miss Brainard ; 
the latter was engaged in some sort of woman’s 
work which so engrossed Her attention that she 
was obliged to bend her head over it, lest she 
should take a wrong stitch. 

‘‘Now, Alice,” Mrs. Jenkins said, in a sharp 
rasping tone with a suggestion of whining 
about it, “ do put up that tiresome embroidery 
and entertain us. You do nothing but sew, 
sew, sew, from morning till night.” 

“ I am sure,” Miss Brainard said quietly, “ I 
at least have been amused by Mr. Wardwell — 
I like eccentric ideas, they are not so hackneyed, 
even if they are not all sound.” 


BROKEN BONDS. 


9 


Her voice was unusually smooth and sweet. 
She looked up as she finished, and I thought 
there was a merry twinkle in her big brown 
eyes. 

“ Isn’t it better, ” Arthur said, regarding her 
with a severe look which was quite thrown away, 
for she was again leaning over her work, “ to have 
our own ideas, which are always called peculiar 
or eccentric, than to live by others’ capital, and 
borrow current theories ? Because I have said 
I can not understand how human beings en- 
dowed with the power of selection can endure 
the martyrdom of a treadmill existence like this, 
I am at once set down as peculiar, consequently 
wrong. I do not say I am right, nor seek to 
make converts to my theory ; I simply express 
surprise.” ^ 

She was smiling broadly now, evidently 
amused at his pretended earnestness and com- 
prehending he was making no effort to justify 
himself, and perhaps realizing he was not the 
sort of man to think it worth while to concili- 
ate her. It must have been patent to her that 
he was of a species quite distinct from the nice 
young men who were at that moment, no doubt, 
wondering what the deuce that big fellow whose 
complexion was so “beastly brown,” wanted 
with the girl they were trying to flirt with. 

“ But,” she remonstrated, laying her work 
down in her lap and folding her hands over it 


BROKEN BONDS. 


lo 

with a graceful gesture. You are so startlingly 
original. You would deliberately undermine 
the very foundations of modern society by 
depriving these good people of the satisfaction 
they enjoy in displaying their beautiful cos- 
tumes ; and what would we do, we women, with- 
out such a hotel as this, which is, after all, only 
our club ? No, you are like the communists — 
forgive the comparison — you would pull down 
what you can not build up again ; for there is 
nothing you could offer as a recompense for 
this kind of life.” 

Mrs. Jenkins had been fidgeting nervously 
and looking in open eyed amazement, not 
unmixed with disgust, at Miss Brainard. Once 
or twice she had essayed to speak, but had got- 
ten no further than a little explosive grunt. 
Now she broke out in remonstrating disap- 
proval. “ Why, Alice, how can you ? Of all the 
ideas I ever heard ! — as if we never thought of 
any thing but dress ! That’s the way with men 
— they consider themselves the superior sex — 
but I would like to know who get up the 
flower shows, and the church fairs, and the sew- 
ing circles, and — and — oh ! every thing else. I 
just wish Mr. Jenkins was here — he would help 
me against you all.” 

Miss Brainard soothed her with a shade of 
that pitying tenderness a mother is wont to 
assume toward a wayward child. I was expe- 


jBROKEJSr BONDS. i i 

riencing a new sensation. In a mild way I felt 
admiring respect for what I had seen of her 
character. 

She spoke to me for the first time : 

“ Do you despise the sex also ? ” 

She glanced at Arthur, expecting a protest, 
but none came ; he smiled as he met her glance. 
For a moment I was nonplussed, then I replied 
lamely: “ You place me in a most embarrass- 
ing position. Should I give you a negative 
answer, it would be a tacit acknowledgment 
that your imputation against Wardwell was 
deserved. You force me to point out your 
error in supposing either him or me capable of 
despising a sex of which you are a member.” 

She looked straight at me, nodding her head 
gently, and said, “ That is very prettily said, and 
I appreciate the sincerity of the compliment.” 

Mrs. Jenkins, meanwhile, was looking from 
one to the other, a vapid expression on her 
prematurely wrinkled face. There was no 
gleam of comprehension in her fishy eyes ; so, 
being moved by pity, I procured a chair and 
suffered martyrdom at her side until at length 
Miss Brainard rose to join her mother, where- 
upon I begged her to excuse me, which she did 
with flattering reluctance, and I joined Arthur 
who was strolling toward the street. 

We lighted cigarettes and stood on the piazza 
gazing out upon the street. There could be 


12 


BROKEN BONDS, 


no doubt that this was a summer resort, the 
swarms of hotels of various sizes and various 
degrees of hastily-done shabbiness amply 
attested that fact. But why do people from the 
cities come to this place with its jostling crowds 
and stone pavements and excessive heat ? To 
drink the waters ? No ; not one in ten has been 
endowed by nature with the necessary courage. 
What then? I asked Arthur his opinion. He 
turned from the contemplation of the stages 
filling up with passengers for the races and 
faced me. 

Do you know, Van, you have one glaring 
fault ? I laughed, but he was perfectly seri- 
ous. 

“ If I were to believe you, and it is gener- 
ally safer not to, I should think I had a million. 
What is the latest discovery ? ” 

“You pass three-fourths of your waking 
hours in thinking up for my benefit a lot of 
idiotic questions which would give the sphinx 
a headache. Take my advice and throw off the 
habit while there is yet time.” 

“ Look here,” said I, “ if a man in your con- 
dition can recover the use of his brain, perhaps 
you will make the effort and tell me what you 
think of Miss Brainard ? ” 

“Well,” he said, knocking the ash from his 
cigarette and regarding the end critically, as if 
he sought to derive his information from the 


BROICEN BONDS. 


n 


glowing coal, “ I think she is — ” he stopped 
abruptly, and taking out his watch and remark- 
ing it was almost dinner time, turned and led 
the way to our rooms. 

At dinner I returned again to the subject 
and asked over our wine if it was yet his royal 
pleasure to reveal his estimate of the young 
lady. 

Yes, he said he would tell me just what he 
thought of her. And his confidential opinion 
was — and he almost whispered it as he leaned 
across the table — that he didn’t know what to 
think. 

It was of no use ; if he had thought upon the 
subject at all, he had no intention of making a 
confidant of me, and I knew him well enough 
to be aware it would do no good to press the 
matter further. It did not matter. We might 
never see her again. We would neither of 
us seek her out, for women’s society bored us 
both. Not that we made any parade of our 
ideas. We were convinced beyond the reach 
of argument that young girls were trained and 
aided by ambitious mothers to act as snares for 
the capture of an eligible parti. Entertaining 
that opinion, when a charming incarnation of 
evident beauty and apparent innocence vouch- 
safed us a tender smile or a heart-stirring hand 
pressure, it was to us the danger signal, and we 
never disregarded it. It was egotistical, pes- 


BROltEN BONDS. 


u 

simistic, uncharitable — what you will ; but it was 
safe. We had, or thought we had, reached an 
age when there was no vulnerable point left 
open to attack. The halcyon days, when it 
was hard to think ill of any one, and the world 
was beautiful and seemed made for us, were all 
behind us. We had learned calculation and 
distrust — hard lessons and like hard blows sure 
to leave a scar. 

After dinner we played a little pool, knock- 
ing the balls about lazily until I accidentally 
made a brilliant shot. Some one slapped me 
on the back crying “ bravo ! It was Lyetel, 
a young Englishman, whose father had sent 
him over here to accept a small clerkship in a 
commission house, with the idea perhaps of 
getting rid of a troublesome spendthrift. 

“ Awf ly good shot,” he drawled ; “ how d’ye 
do ? Stopping here ? ” 

We shook hands, and I introduced him to 
Arthur. 

Dull place, isn’t it ? I don’t think I was 
ever in a stupider hole — nothing like our 
Brighton — that’s jolly, don’t you know. Going 
out to smoke ? I’ll join you if you don’t 
mind.” 

There is not much to be seen at that hour of 
the afternoon, the women, young and old, being 
engaged in the construction of the important 
“ effect ” of the day, and no doubt wondering if 


BROKEN BONDS. 15 

Mrs. Smith or Miss Jones will surpass them 
again to-day by the greater richness of a yard 
of lace or a diamond bracelet, as she had done 
last night “ the spiteful wretch ! ” 

“ How is it you’re not at the races ? ” I asked 
Lyetel, knowing him to be proud of his horsey 
proclivities. 

“ I’ve had quite enough of them,” he replied. 

Every day for the past two weeks I have 
backed the wrong horse for biggish amounts ; 
deuce of it is when I win it was usually a ticket 
in the ‘ Mutuels. ’ ” We walked on silently for a 
moment, when he added : “ Odd thing happened 
there yesterday. Devilish pretty girl, a Miss 
Brainard, was there for the first time. I was 
talking to her and her mother trying to explain 
the betting, don’t you know.” The oratorical 
effort was too much for him ; he paused and 
puffed on his cigar for a moment. When he 
had rekindled the fire Arthur asked if he had 
succeeded. 

“ Yes, she’s deuced quick — caught the idea 
at once and asked me what horse I should buy 
for the next race. I thought she really wanted 
advice, so I told her. Well, it was pretty rough 
what she did, she teased until she got her 
mother’s consent and then she said, ‘ Here’s five 
dollars, go and buy me that other one, I like 
his name better.’ It was pure luck, but the old 
hack she had picked won in a canter. He was 


i6 


BROKEN BONDS. 


way down in the betting, so she got quite a lit- 
tle money, and what do you suppose she did 
with it? It’s ten to one you can’t guess.” 

Nevertheless we both tried. Arthur said: 
“ It doesn’t require a seer to tell what the 
young ladies of this generation would be most 
likely to do with money. What is their leading 
idea? Dress, of course. Very well, then, she 
went straight to a dry goods store and laid it 
all out.” 

“ No,” I said, “ I think you’re wrong. She 
would not be likely to spend money which 
comes unexpectedly on what she would con- 
sider necessaries. She bought some article of 
jewelry with it.” 

Lyetel smiled, but said nothing. “ Well,” I 
asked, “ which of us is right ? ” 

It wouldn’t be half a bad idea for you fel- 
lows to bet on it.” We had heard the faint 
pounding of horses’ hoofs down the road along 
which we had come, and now as they clattered 
up behind us we all turned round. “ By Jove ! ” 
exclaimed Lyetel, hastily adjusting his mono- 
cle, “ speak of the angels — here she is now.” 

As the riders swept past us. Miss Brain- 
ard bowed and smiled, and then we approved of 
her horsemanship and admired her figure and 
costume. She looked very attractive — most 
women do in a riding habit, if at all.' Lyetel 
broke out with a suspicion of envy of the other’s 


BROKEN BONDS. 


17 


good fortune, ‘‘ That fellow’s a duffer; he’ll be 
on his horse’s ears directly.” 

“ How about our guesses? ” Arthur asked. 

“Won’t you bet ? ” No, we would not. 

“ Then I’ll tell you.- She just bunched the 
money up in her hand and said she was ready 
to go — she thought it tiresome. I accepted 
their invitation to ride back in their carriage, 
and we started. J ust outside the gate a woman 
has a flower stand, but she doesn’t sell much. 
She’s awfully pale and thin, and that sort of 
thing, and it can’t pay very well, because most 
of the time she’s holding a sickly looking child 
in her arms and singing to it ; so every one goes 
on without noticing the few flowers. Directly 
Miss Brainard saw her, she runs up and stuffs 
the bills in the woman’s hand, and says, ‘ That’s 
for baby,’ and comes back to us all smiles. The 
woman jumped up and tried to call out some- 
thing after us, but she couldn’t. She sat down, 
and as we drove away, she was rocking the 
child again and crying over it. I told her, in 
my opinion, it was a waste of good money — 
that I didn’t believe in encouraging pauper- 
ism.” 

“ What did she say to that ? ” I asked. 

“ What did she say? She didn’t say a great 
deal, but” — he grimaced at the recollection — “ I 
never will get into an argument with her again, 
don’t you know.” 


II. 


A fter a time we turned back, and presently 
he asked if we were going to the ball that 
evening. I promptly replied that we were not, 
and was proceeding to say that we were too old 
birds to be caught with such chaff, when Arthur 
cut me short. 

‘‘I am going — out of curiosity,” he explained, 
half apologetically. I was surprised and dis- 
gusted. I should be obliged in self-defense to 
go with him, for I did not relish the idea of 
moping about a half-empty hotel all the even- 
ing. 

When we were back in our rooms, and the 
young Englishman had left us, I inquired what 
had put the notion into his head of going to 
this ball, a thing he had not done in years, ex- 
cept when the pressure was too strong, and now 
there was nothing to oblige him to go. 

“ As you say. Van, it is a notion. I would 
prefer to enjoy the soft luxury of this chair, 
with a good book for a companion, but — I sup- 
pose it’s curiosity.” 

Curiosity about what? You know what 


BROKEN BONDS. 


^9 


these affairs always are, crowded, hot, tire- 
some.” 

He blew a cloud of smoke straight up, and 
watched it as it rolled out on the ceiling, then 
lowering his eyes, he looked at me a moment 
in silence, as if trying to read some riddle in my 
face. At last he said slowly, “ There you go 
again with your confounded questions — I am 
going — verb, sap.” Trifles are more wearing 
than real misfortunes, especially when one’s 
life in great matters runs smoothly. I presume 
that is the reason why I was so annoyed. 

We entered the ball room at half past ten, 
and were immediately subjected to a hearty 
hand shake from the gushing Mr. Jenkins. 

How are you — how are you ? Glad to see 
you here. What do you think of the decora- 
tions ? ” and he waved his hand with a proprie- 
tary gesture, as if he wanted it understood that 
he was responsible for the success of the whole 
affair. 

‘‘ Excuse me a moment, you stay here — I’ll 
be back in a second,” and he darted off, dexter- 
ously dodging the promenaders, who were 
waiting for the music, and seizing a dwarfish, 
corpulent little man by the hand, gesticulated 
for a moment or two, and then bidding his vic- 
tim adieu with elaborate courtesy, bustled back 
to us. 

“ Do you know who that was? That’s one 


20 


BROKEN BONDS. 


of our lions ; he’s an Italian count — isn’t offish a 
bit — strange, don’t you think so ?” This man 
appeared to be suffering from a chronic state of 
open-eyed astonishment. 

“ Come with me and I’ll show you the most 
beautiful woman in the world. I admire her 
and she knows it, but she doesn’t mind.” 

Arthur looked at me and smiled covertly. 
As Jenkins was separated from us for an instant 
I said, “ Some old hag, probably.” He led us 
up to his wife. Can it be, I thought, that this 
fool thinks her beautiful ? So much the better 
for him, but, great heaven ! to think that I am 
not to be allowed even to bore myself in my 
own way. He placed himself in front of us 
and we stood about ten feet from his con- 
sort. Now wait until she turns around,” he 
said. 

Wait until who turns round?” Arthur 
asked. 

“ That young lady talking to my wife.” 

We looked in the direction indicated, and 
saw a shapely head crowned by rich brown hair 
of silky texture, above shoulders of perfect 
shape and delicate whiteness, that was all ; but 
presently she changed her position and we saw 
the face. It was Miss Brainard. I shall not 
describe her — Arthur did that ; he turned to 
Jenkins and remarked gravely, “You are quite 
right.” 


BROKEN BONDS. 


21 


The ladies smiled on seeing us and we joined 
them. Miss Brainard made room for Arthur, 
who took the chair next hers, while I stood 
before Mrs. Jenkins. That lady was fortunately 
in a silent mood, and I judged from her man- 
ner toward her spouse, anger at something he 
had done was not remotely connected with it. 
I therefore heard much of the conversation 
between Arthur and Miss Brainard. 

“ I did not expect to see you here, Mr. Ward- 
well,” she said, “ after what — ” 

“ Pardon me,” he interrupted, you are going 
to say I am inconsistent, but in accusing me 
you do yourself an injustice, for I knew you 
were aware this morning I was not in earnest, 
and now you would have me believe you did 
not see through my pretended self-righteous- 
ness.” 

How very acute you are, and you pay that 
compliment to my perceptive faculties in so 
delicate a manner that I ought not to reprove 
you.” 

“ Do not make the mistake,” he said, “ of 
concluding there was no grain of sincerity in 
what I said. Most of it was argumentative 
trash, but I really had become tired years ago 
of dancing, and late hours, and mild flirtations, 
and find my pleasures in things more real and 
substantial.” 

All of which makes it the more strange that 


22 


BROKEN BONDS. 


you are here to-night. Tell me why you came/’ 
she said persuasively. 

He smiled. “ If I knew, I would tell you 
gladly. I suppose it was a whim. Mr. Jiiyetel 
said there was to be a grand ball, and I at once 
knew it was what I wanted to do, so we came — 
much to my friend’s disgust.” 

“ Do you know Mr. Lyetel? ” she inquired. 

“ I met him to-day for the first time. Van 
knows him. He’s an Englishman, and as 
opinionated as most of his countrymen.” 

‘‘You must not say any thing against English- 
men, they have a champion in me. They are 
so manly, and they have so much good breed- 
ing, and then they have the courage to declare 
their honest convictions. The men I have 
liked best were all Englishmen, with one 
exception.” 

“ Yes,” Arthur assented, “ they are all very 
well, if you can keep out of an argument with 
them, and steer clear of the subject of their 
beloved little island.” 

“Just look around you,” she said earnestly; 
“ do you not think that manly sun-browned 
athletic men are preferable to these boys mas- 
querading as men, and they will never be any 
thing but boys.” She shrugged her shoulders 
with a pretty little gesture of contempt. “ Ah ! ” 
she suddenly exclaimed, “ there is my mother.” 
Arthur rose and we were presented to a hand- 


BROKEN BONDS. 


23 


some woman, of fine carriage and a still good 
figure, who might easily have been mistaken 
for an elder sister of Miss Brainard. 

“M’*. Wardwell,” she said, “you bear a very 
strong resemblance to one of the dearest friends 
I ever had ; her name was Emily Canning ; she 
married a Mr. Wardwell.” 

“That was my mother,” Arthur said quietly. 

“ I felt sure I could not be mistaken. You 
don’t know how glad I am to meet you. We 
were so intimate until she went out West when 
you were only five years old and I lost track of 
her. At first she wrote frequently, but you 
know when women marry old ties are soon 
broken. I hope we shall see a great deal of you 
while you are here.” 

“You are very good,” he replied. “ We do 
not expect to remain many days. You see we 
are both lawyers and have not robbed an estate 
in nearly six weeks, so it is high time we 
returned.” 

Some one came to claim a dance from Miss 
Brainard, and Arthur took her chair. 

“ Miss Brainard dances well,” he remarked. 

“ Forgive the fondness of a mother who has 
only one child, if I say she does every thing 
well,” Mrs. Brainard replied, following her 
daughter with a smile of pleased approbation. 

The old tactics, I thought ; she is laying the 
snare ; and the next instant I felt ashamed of 


24 


BROKEN BONDS. 


the unworthy suspicion. This was not the 
average mother ; she was something altogether 
better. 

The ubiquitous Mr. Jenkins came back and 
taking me one side pointed out a tall, fine-look- 
ing man with a pronounced foreign type of 
countenance. See that fellow? Rich, rich 
as mud, got several millions they say — relative 
of the French minister — a marquis — has a big 
chateau, and a hotel in Paris, and all that. He 
wants to marry Miss B., but she won’t have it. 
They say he proposed, but nobody can find out 
any thing — I tried." 

“ Isn’t she engaged ? ’’ I asked. 

“ No, strange too. Now, there’s a chance for 
you, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t succeed." 

Don’t be alarmed, I do not mean to try." 

“ No, that’s right, that’s right," he said, 
earnestly. “ I believe she doesn’t know what 
falling in love means, unless she’s in love with 
herself, and I wouldn’t blame her either. Just 
look at her 1 Did you ever see such a face and 
figure ! By George, I mustn’t let my wife hear 
me,‘though,’’ and he glanced nervously round. 

A couple of chairs had been vacated next to 
Mrs. Brainard, and I took one of them. She 
turned to me and said, “ Please help me to 
convince Mr. Wardwell that he ought to be 
ashamed of himself; he says he has no ambi- 
tion ; is it true ? ” 


BROKEN BONDS. 


2 $ 


“ I am afraid it is. You see he is lazy and 
he makes successes without effort ; it is too 
great facility that has ruined him.” 

Miss Brainard smiled, “Are you ruined?” 

“ I leave my justification in your hands,” he 
replied. “ I have an income which supports 
me, and my pursuits are my slaves who pander 
to my appetite for recreation, pleasure and 
ease ; had I a great ambition I could no longer 
command, but would be forced to obey, and 
would soon become the plaything of my 
hobby.” 

“ Do not appoint me your advocate,” 
Miss Brainard said, “ I can not agree with 
you.” 

“You have been getting into a rut,” said the 
mother, “ and your surroundings have kept you 
there. I do not believe you are indolent. 
Perhaps you only expend in other directions 
the energy which would make you famous if 
properly employed.” 

“You are charitable and I thank you,” he 
replied. “ I dreamed dreams once, but I never 
got much further than air castles. My illusions 
are all destroyed and now I am practical — and 
prosaic.” 

“ Don’t you go in for politics at all ? ” 

“ No, Miss Brainard, I am not rich enough 
to bear defeat, and a shade too honest to take 
in perquisites the cost of my election.” 


26 


BROKEN BONDS. 


“ Shall I tell you what you are ? 

“ No,” he said quickly, leaning toward her, 
and his manner was no longer trifling — he was 
thoroughly in earnest. “No, for I should not 
like to hear you say I am something I would 
rather not have thought myself.” 

It seemed to me that it was the influence of 
his earnest gaze that made her look dreamily 
into his eyes and say: “It is a pity. You 
could do great things if you chose.” Imme- 
diately becoming conscious -of having estab- 
lished, perhaps, too confidential relations with 
an acquaintance of only a few hours, she 
colored and turned hastily to her mother with 
a remark that it was strange Mr. Cushing 
had not claimed that waltz. 

I wanted a change, and thought it would 
please Arthur if I afforded him an opportunity 
to get away for a smoke. I was out in my 
reckoning. When I announced my intention, 
he said, “ All right. I’ll stay here.” It was 
very strange — he was usually anxious enough 
to escape under similar circumstances. 

I went down to the billiard room, lighted a 
cigar, and watched a game between Lyetel and 
a very young man with an abnormally large 
head and thin legs. The former asked me if I 
had the craze too. 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Oh ! every one gets it, even the women. 


BROKEN BONDS. 


27 


some of them. You needn’t be ashamed of it ; 
I had it, but I saw there was no chance.” 

I could not resist the inclination to laugh 
at the man’s absurdly knowing manner. 

Perhaps you will kindly explain what you 
are driving at,” I said, half impatiently. 

“ Don’t be so innocent ; I saw you talking 
to her a few minutes ago.” 

He meant Miss Brainard. He was a little 
familiar on very short acquaintance, but I con- 
cealed my annoyance with the view of leading 
him on to talk of her; I was curious to hear 
what there was to know about this girl, whose 
name was on every one’s lips. 

Pshaw, I don’t believe in these exceedingly 
cold young ladies of dignified hauteur, who are 
supposed to be without heart or feeling. I 
never have met any.” 

I know. Every man thinks that, but there 
are women who are not to be caught, and she 
is one of them.” 

*‘The theory is all right,” I said, “but do 
you know of any who have failed to arouse her 
interest, beside yourself?” 

“Not one, but twenty; some were half in 
earnest, luke-warm, don’t you know, like my- 
self, but half a dozen were hard hit. You 
couldn’t get one of them to say a word against 
her, though. If their experience was like 
mine she never led ’em on a step.” 


2S BROKEN BONDS. 

He went to the table to make a shot, and 
missing, immediately returned. 

How is it,” I asked, “that she could have 
had so many serious admirers in one sum- 
mer ? ” 

“ Oh, a fellow would meet her in the even- 
ing, devote a couple of hours to an attempt at 
flirtation, and end by thinking himself desper- 
ately in love ; next day he would be heart- 
broken to find his place occupied by a fresh 
aspirant, and he would either mope for a day 
or two, or if the case was serious, leave 
town.” 

This conversation gave me something to 
ponder over, something to wonder at. Was 
there really in what is known as good society 
a girl whose leading idea was not to make a 
rich marriage? I was not by any means con- 
vinced. Said I to myself, no marble is without 
its flaw; let us wait and see. Perhaps these 
fellows who fancied they loved her, were not 
recommended by a bank account. When I got 
back to the ball room, Arthur was still talking 
to her, and Mrs. Brainard and Mrs. Jenkins 
were seated together a few feet beyond. 

As I approached I heard Miss Brainard say, 
“ There comes your friend, he shall decide.” 

“ Van, Miss Brainard says I am not ten years 
her senior, and she has appointed you referee.” 

“ If Miss Brainard will do what few young 


Broken bonds. 


29 


ladies are willing to do, I will render my decision 
instanter.” 

“ I know what you mean,” she said, smiling. 
“ I am twenty-one.” 

“ Then I must declare in favor of the enemy 
— he is thirty-one.” 

“ As old as that ! ” she exclaimed, in all but a 
horror-stricken voice. 

Arthur said, a little sadly I thought, “ How 
ancient that seems to you. I remember at 
your age I used to think people who were past 
thirty were out of every thing ; and I wondered 
if they did not begin to think they were grow- 
ing old and death was not very far off. And 
forty I considered about the proper age to put 
earthly matters in shape and contemplate 
approaching dissolution.” 

“ How absurd,” she murmured. 

“ Pardon me, there is nearly as much fact as 
nonsense in it. There is an old axiom and a 
true one, that the days of our youth are golden. 
As the years slip by, the capability for enjoy- 
ment ceases, if we have not sown the ground 
properly for the harvest which shall cheer us 
in our old days. I think sometimes my life 
has been a mistake — that conviction is strong 
upon me to-night.” 

His elbows were on his knees ; he was lean- 
ing forward looking gloomily at the floor. 

“ Why to-night, particularly ? ” she asked. 


30 


BROKEN BONDS. 


“ Because I see about me younger men who 
have not become callous by nursing misan- 
thropic notions, and I know that my chances for 
a brighter life are gone through my own fault." 
He raised his head and looked her straight in 
the face as he continued, “It is bitter to know 
that one is either too old or too hard to com- 
pete with fresher lives." 

If her manner was an indication, she was 
interested in him. “ Do you know, you are 
horribly pessimistic. My mother would tell 
you you needed tone and would send you 
away." 

Arthur smiled, “ That is the way with most 
physicians ; when they are at fault for a diag- 
nosis they send the patient away ; the remedy 
may not effect a cure, but they relieve them- 
selves of responsibility." 

She drew me into the conversation by asking 
if he was often so blue, he had been giving her 
the shivers for the last half hour, she said. 

“ No," I replied, “ he is not hilarious, except 
when poking fun at me, but I have never before 
seen him quite so funereal." 

“You see, that is the effect of my society." 
Arthur made a strange remark in answer to 
this. 

“ Yes, it is," he said. Stranger still, instead 
of becoming indignant she blushed, and there 
ensued an awkward pause which Arthur broke 


BROKEN BONDS. 


31 


by saying we had had a long day and felt the 
need of rest, “ I hope we shall see you to-mor- 
row, Miss Brainard,” he concluded. 

“ If your despondency is not followed by sui- 
cide,” she smilingly replied. 

Perhaps hope may stay my hand,” he said, 
as she went off on the arm of another partner. 
We bade good-night to her mother, who with 
hearty cordiality hoped she would see a great 
deal of us during our stay ; whereupon Mrs. 
Jenkins vowed she would present us to every 
pretty girl in the house if we. liked. 

Once in our rooms I prepared for an immedi- 
ate disappearance into bed, but Arthur said, 
“ Hold on, Van, sit down and have a smoke. 
What do you say to a glass of wine ? ” 

“ I say that this beastly ball you insisted on 
my going to has used me up, and I’m going 
to bed.” 

“ Don’t be disagreeable,” he returned, pushing 
the button to summon the waiter; “sit down, I 
want to talk to you.” 

I felt a little annoyed at his insistance, but 
yielded reluctantly — I always did that in the 
end when he had set his mind upon any thing. 

“ Well, you have kept me up half the night 
and I suppose you think I might as well be 
killed for an old sheep as a lamb. What is the 
momentous question you wish to discuss ? ” 

He hesitated a moment. 


32 


BROKEN BONDS. 


What do you think of Jenkins ? '' 

It was a pointless question for him to ask, 
and a purposeless one ; he was fencing to lead 
up to the matter which was on his mind. Why 
did he not frankly come to the point 

“ Of what possible interest to you is my 
opinion of a man I know nothing about ? Look 
here, Arthur, that is not what you wanted me to 
go without sleep for, and the sooner I know 
what you really want the better I shall like it." 

He smiled somewhat consciously, and, avoid- 
ing my eyes, replied in a constrained tone : 

“ I thought you would like to have a cigar 
and a drink — hang it ! you needn’t be disagree- 
able about it ; can’t you talk over the evening, 
the people we have met, and all that ? ’’ 

Let me see — the people we have met — who 
did we meet ? Lyetel, Jenkins and his charm- 
ing wife, Mrs. Brainard and her daughter. 
Nothing remarkable about any of them.’’ 

He disregarded my comment, and stopping 
short in his nervous striding up and down the 
room^ stood before me. His face was earnest 
and his tone serious. 

Van, when we occasionally find ourselves, 
as we did to-night, where young people appear 
to be enjoying themselves, we are in the habit 
of sneering at their foolishness. I wonder if 
our disgust is only sour envy, after all.’’ 

This is a late day for you to turn traitor to 


BROKEN BONDS. 


33 


your convictions,” I replied. “ I didn’t see 
any thing to-night to change my views. What 
are you driving at ? ” 

He laughed uneasily. 

It is nonsense, no doubt, but — perhaps there 
are sincere women worthy of being believed in.” 

I said nothing, and in a moment he con- 
tinued : “ What do you think of Mrs. Brainard 
and her daughter ? They seem to be very 
pleasant, unaffected people.” 

“ Now we are getting at it,” I exclaimed. • 
“ My opinion coincides with yours. I don’t 
know what to think. They do not interest me.” 

He was visibly disappointed, and sat with 
his wine untasted beside him, gazing at the 
wall. He was silent for a long time. At length 
I arose and said : 

“ For a man who wanted to sit up and talk, 
you are remarkably silent. If you have nothing 
to say, I will leave you to your own cheerful 
society.” 

“ Good-night,” he muttered absently, without 
turning his head. I left him so deep in thought 
he took no heed of the expiring cigar held 
loosely between his fingers. 

I could not understand him ; he was not 
given to such moods, and the symptoms all 
indicated a strong disturbing influence, but 
I thought very little about his doubts that our 
distrust of the other sex was unjust. I was 


34 


BROKEN BONI>S. 


sure of myself, and was equally confident of 
the steadfastness of his settled resolve. None 
of the pretty arts of modern misses could ever 
find a vulnerable point in his armor of con- 
temptuous indifference. Perhaps his digestion 
was bad, or it might be the place bored him. 
I would propose leaving in the morning. 


III. 



O-MORROW came, and my proposition 


1 to go away, on the plea that neither of us 
could find enjoyment in the place, met with no 
encouragement, and we staid on day after day. 
He said he rather liked it ; nevertheless, he did 
absolutely nothing, passing the mornings in 
sitting on the piazzas, talking to a lot of women 
of assorted ages. Miss Brainard was nearly 
always one of the group. Her mother had ap- 
parently formed a great liking for him ; she 
showed a deference to his opinion and an 
anxiety that he should be near her which were 
altogether singular ; her remarks were as often 
as not addressed to him, and she seemed to me 
to have the air of striving to win his good 
opinion purely out of a suddenly formed 
affectionate regard. The daughter was cordially 
pleasant, with a well-bred self-possession which 
never deserted her, but she was not demon- 
strative, nor did her manner ever pass the 
bounds of cool friendliness. 

So they talked and strolled and drove to- 
gether, and day by day the wonder grew 


36 


BROKEN BONDS. 


in my mind that he could so contentedly 
waste his time. Always to my query he 
would reply, “No, I am not yet ready to 
go ; when I am tired of it, I shall pack up and 
be off in an hour ; if you do not care to remain, 
I don’t wish to keep you against your will.” 
Then I would make up my mind that another 
day would be enough for him, and I would 
stay. And so it went on. There were balls at 
our hotel, and balls at two of the others, with 
concerts and garden parties in the intervals. 
We saw a great deal of the Brainards ; if we 
did not accompany them, we were sure to meet 
them everywhere, and soon I began to admire 
the younger lady as her character unfolded 
itself. It was enough to make one think bet- 
ter of human nature to see the tender solici- 
tude with which she watched for and antici- 
pated her mother’s wants. 

Rhapsodies are not my forte, but if I could 
command the enthusiasm which was long ago 
crushed out, I would describe to you the evening 
of the fete upon the lawn ; it was the affair of the 
season, and the management, as they say in the 
play-bills, had spared neither pains nor expense 
to make it go off with an ^clat that would pro- 
duce on the guests an impression likely to last 
until next season. 

The night air was full of the halos of 
light from bright -colored lanterns hung in 


BROKEN BONDS. 


37 


festoons from tree to tree, there were arbors 
of flowers, and in the center the musK 
cians played to a larger audience than they 
had ever had. It was fairy land, or would have 
been if the boundaries had not been the un- 
lovely walls of staring brick. 

Perhaps it was the scene, the gayety 
around him, or perhaps it was Miss Brain- 
ard’s society that broke the shell of his 
defensive misanthropy, and carried Arthur 
out of himself. At any rate he was in ex- 
uberant spirits — he laughed and chatted and 
laughed again as I had not seen him do so 
carelessly since he was a boy of twenty. I stood 
upon the steps and watched them as they came 
slowly along the path, and thought how hard it 
would be to find a handsomer couple. When 
the world was not so old and love matches, not 
mercenary bargains, were made, how fitting it 
would have been that this strong man, with his 
honest face and fearless bearing, should mate 
with the noble, sweet-eyed girl at his side. Did 
I feel that little twinge of regret because those 
days were past and gone long ago, or because I 
thought my friend was incapable and unwilling 
to awaken love which might be worth the 
winning ? 

Tell me,” he was saying, why do you pre- 
fer Englishmen to Americans? you are not 
very patriotic.” 


38 


BROKEN ^ONDS. 


*‘Did I never tell you? Mamma took me to 
Europe two years ago after I had teased her 
for ever so long, and we met lots of Englishmen 
on the Continent: they were so nice to us! 
There was nothing they wouldn’t do for us.” 

“ I have no doubt of it,” he rejoined ; “ but 
do you suppose they would do as much for — 
Mrs. Jenkins, for instance? ” 

She looked up at him wonderingly. “ Why, 
of course, why shouldn’t they? ” 

“ Because Mrs. Jenkins is not beautiful.” 

She blushed, and quickly turning her face 
away, said in a colder tone : “ They were just as 
kind to mamma as to me when we were travel- 
ing ; it was a great help, for with the exception 
of the maid we were all alone most of the time.” 

“ It was quite an undertaking for two ladies 
to travel so far alone.” 

“Yes,” she replied; “but when papa was 
alive we went with him twice, and we knew how 
to get along pretty well.” They went on 
quietly for a moment, “ See,” she exclaimed 
suddenly, “ this beautiful bouquet was sent to 
me anonymously this evening ; they are just 
the roses I am most fond of ; they must have 
come from some one who knows me well ; per- 
haps — but no, he is not here.” 

So there is a “ he ” Arthur thought, and some- 
how he felt a little unaccountable displeasure 
at the discovery. “ He would probably feel 


BROKEN BONDS. 


39 


flattered if he knew how readily you attributed 
the gift to him.” 

“ No, he wouldn’t,” she replied. “I thought 
first of him because he is an old friend, or rather 
his father knew our family intimately for years; 
and now he comes to see us quite often ; I like 
him because he is more like an Englishman 
than any American I know.” 

“Tell me what the English manner is,” 
Arthur said, bending toward her, “ and I will 
try to assume it.” 

“ I’m afraid the impersonation would not be 
natural.” Suddenly she turned and looked 
inquiringly into his face, “ Did you send these 
roses, Mr. Wardwell ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ I thought so,” she remarked. 

“ Why ? ” he asked. 

“ Because cards came with all the others.” 
Realizing what she had said, the color mounted 
to her forehead and she bent her head over 
the flowers. 

Strangely enough, Arthur’s heart thrilled for 
a second with something very like joy. Of all 
she received she selected his, and she knew it 
was from him because she knew he would not 
make a bid for thanks by affixing his card. It 
would be flattering to any man’s self esteem to 
know that such a woman appreciated the 
thoughtfulness of the gift and the delicate man- 


40 


BROKEN BONDS, 


ner in which it had been made ; he hardly 
knew why the little episode and her manner 
should produce that feeling of exaltation. He 
looked attentively at her as the light fell full 
upon her clear-cut features, lending additional 
brilliancy to the calm eyes that seemed always 
to be looking at something far away which 
others could not see, and the new emotion like 
a sudden contraction of the heart caused his 
nerves to flutter. He was a man of well-poised 
self-confidence, but now in a moment he grew 
timorous as a school-boy ; he could not have 
spoken in his natural voice to have saved his 
life. “ Did you — did you wear those flowers 
because I sent them ?” 

By this time she had regained all her self- 
possession. She replied in her usual manner 
brightly, “ I wore them because they are my 
favorites — you knew that, of course. Oh, there 
is that charming Lord Numskel ; have you met 
him ? ” 

I do not know whether at that time she cared 
for him or not, she probably did not know her- 
self, but had she loved him with all her soul, 
with the perversity of the sex she would have 
made the same answer. 

No, he had not met the noble lord and he 
did not care to. 

I ought to find fault with you or blame 
myself,'’ she said. 


BROKEN BONDS. 41 

I do not understand you.” 

“ Why,” she went on lightly, half an hour 
ago I flattered myself I had driven away a lit- 
tle of the cynicism that makes you carp at every 
thing, but now you have grown cross again and 
there is only one way to account for it — 1 exeft 
a depressing influence upon you.” 

They were in a by-path out of the crowd ; he 
stopped and she was naturally compelled to 
wait until he had said what he wished her to 
hear. He stood looking at her intently, and 
the longer he gazed upon the graceful figure 
before him the more disturbed he became. 

Miss Brainard,” he began, “ it may be that 
I will not have another opportunity to tell you 
how grateful I am for what you have done for 
me.” 

She looked up with an expression that was 
part wonder and part amusement. “ I ! ” she 
said incredulously, “ I have done nothing for 
you.” / 

He said in a subdued, concentrated tone, look- 
ing earnestly into her eyes: “Shall I tell you 
what you have done ? ” then, without waiting 
for lier answer, he went on, “ You have shown 
me that all my foolish self-satisfied misanthropy 
was but bigoted conceit ; you have forced upon 
me a better opinion of men and women ; you 
find good in every thing ; there is no one, how- 
ever disagreeable or blameworthy, in whom you 


42 BROKEN BONDS. 

can not find a redeeming trait ; and the happi- 
ness your sweet disposition brings to you shows 
me how mistaken I have been.” 

She was nervously picking a rose to pieces, 
not daring to meet his eyes. “What can I 
say?” she cried at length. “You put mein 
such an awkward position. Of course I am 
glad if I have had any thing to do with making 
you feel more charitably toward the world, but 
you are wrong in praising me so highly, I do 
not deserve any of it. Still,” she added, after a 
slight pause, “ I am very proud to have won 
this praise from you.” She walked on, and he 
followed at her side. 

That night I saw him take a rose from his 
button hole while he held a cigar in his hand 
and then — it was either the flower or the 
cigar he carried to his lips — I could not tell 
which. 

A day or two afterward I said to him, “ Do 
you know that the world is remarking upon the 
frequency with which you and Miss Brainard 
are seen together ? ” 

“Let the world mind its own business,” he 
growled. 

“ Exactly, but is it fair to her?” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“I have no wish to assume the duties of 
Brainard p^re and ask you your intentions, but 
I would suggest that if you do not intend tak- 


Broken bonds. 


43 


ing a partner for life, it is time you became more 
promiscuous in your attentions.” 

He was annoyed : he puffed vigorously at 
his cigar. “ Have the fools been talking?” 

“Not only Jenkins but others,” I replied. 

“ Then I will end it,” he exclaimed decid- 
edly. 

“ Do you mean that you will go further in 
your new role and devote yourself to other 
belles, or will you go back to town like a sane 
man?” 

“ Neither,” he said shortly. 

Instantly it occurred to me that the only 
other thing he could do would be to propose 
for her hand. Could it be possible that he con- 
templated such a thing ! “You don’t mean to 
say you would marry her?” I inquired breath- 
lessly. 

He was sitting with his elbows on the 
table, his hands in his hair. “ I don’t know,” 
he said slowly. 

“ Great heaven ! ” I ejaculated faintly, sink- 
ing into a chair. I was thunderstruck. Here 
was a man upon whose strength of character I 
would have relied, as I could not upon my own, 
calmly talking of the possibility of marrying. 
“ You are not in earnest ; you don’t really mean 
it?” 

He arose smiling and said absently, “ No, no, 
of course not.” 


44 


BROKEN BONDS. 


But the smile was not honest nor the words 
sincere, and from that moment I doubted him. 

We had seen a great deal of the Brainards 
during many days, and, as was natural, the his- 
tory and character of each one of us had come to 
the surface, and, in spite of myself, I came to 
look upon Miss Brainard as the type of a species 
of which she herself was the only existing mem- 
ber I had ever seen. Nevertheless the idea of 
a union between her and Arthur was extremely 
repugnant to me, and I tried to think there was 
no reasonable probability of it. 

The end of the season was approaching: 
the piazzas became less crowded ; occasion- 
ally a cool night would remind us that pro- 
jected gayeties must be deferred until an- 
other season ; the arrivals were few and the 
departures many. At last came the most 
welcome piece of news I had heard in weeks ; 
the Brainards were to leave in two days, 
and Arthur signified his willingness to go 
on the morrow. I congratulated myself that 
the danger was past, for once back in town I 
felt confident of diverting his thoughts into 
busy channels which would crowd out senti- 
mental musings. 

That afternoon we accepted an invitation 
to drive to the lake with the Brainards. 
The day was clear and cool ; overhead little 
ragged clouds floated slowly past, their white- 


BROJtEN BONDS. 




ness accenting the deep soft blue of the 
arched space. An opal tinted haze wrapped 
the distant hills and the further edge of the 
plain where the cattle grazed in a veil which 
made the view seem almost illimitable. Under- 
neath the overarching trees, where the sunlight 
fell in golden patches on the darkened road, 
and out again into the glare to catch another 
beautiful vista of the valley we had left behind, 
with its drowsy calm and rich coloring of purple 
and green and gold, on we went briskly, the rapid 
trot of the horses changing our point of view 
continually and opening up new landscapes at 
every turn of the road. 

When he chooses to make the exertion 
Arthur can shine in conversation as no other 
man of my acquaintance, but this morn- 
ing he was in one of the gloomy moods which 
had recently become frequent with him. Mrs. 
Brainard and I were left to provide topics for 
the party, until at length his reticence became 
so marked that she asked him if he had heard 
any bad news. 

“ No," he said, he was thinking of going 
away, that was all." 

“ Are you so sorry to leave," Miss Brainard 
inquired, with a more thoughtful look than was 
usual with her. 

“Yes ; not on account of the place, but the 
friends I have made." 


46 


BROFtEN' BONDS. 


Mrs. Brainard interposed, “ But you will see 
them again. I should be sorry to think you 
meant never to call on us after you return to 
the city." 

“ Thank you," he replied, and looked at the 
daughter as if expecting an echo of the elder 
lady’s cordial remark, but she was gazing 
thoughtfully out of the carriage and made no 
sign. 

We relapsed into unsociable silence, and felt 
a sense of relief when we had reached our object- 
ive point. We alighted and strolled through a 
woodland path, Arthur with Miss Brainard per- 
haps unintentionally lagging behind. 

H e walked along kicking the twigs and switch- 
ing the bushes with his cane, until finally her 
soft voice broke the silence. “ Mr. Wardwell ! " 
he turned toward her. “You seem so unhappy. 
It is wrong for a young man with all his best 
life before him to give way to gloomy thoughts. 
You make me feel sorry for you whenever I 
look at you." 

Now for an attractive young lady to express 
compassion for a man of marriageable years is 
dangerous. 

“And yet," he said doubtfully, “ you would 
not help me if you could." 

“ Oh, yes, I would ; it is such a terrible thing 
to have lost faith in every thing and every one. 
Believe me there are things worth living for. If 


BROKEN BONDS. 47 

you would only strive to make a career for your- 
self ! " 

She was speaking earnestly, her face lighted 
with enthusiasm, forgetful, seemingly, of her 
companion, her surroundings, every thing ex- 
cept the idea that his was a life which ought 
not to be wasted. If he had fled from her 
before she showed this tender interest in 
his welfare, his future would have been very 
different ; but such regrets are idle now. 

Arthur’s eyes sought hers. “ Do you know 
the interest you take in me is the sweetest flat- 
tery I ever listened to ? ” 

“ Please do not think me insincere,” she 
pleaded reproachfully. 

“ Let us understand each other,” he said ; 
if I thought you really felt as strong an inter- 
est in me as your sweet words indicate, it would 
make me very happy.” 

The color stole into her face ; she recognized 
all his meaning in the trembling earnestness of 
his tone. She said quickly and more coldly, 
“ I pity all who deliberately waste their lives 
and take credit to themselves in thinking life 
not worth living.” 

“ I thought so,” he rejoined with intense 
bitterness you are like all the rest.” Then 
forgetting prudence and good sense he went on 
impetuously : 

“ When I was a boy, visionary, dreaming 


4 ^ BkOKEN BONDS, 

always of the unattainable, I drew in my mind 
the picture of the woman who should be my 
wife. Having made the copy, I went out into 
the world to seek the original. She must be 
fair, I said to myself, and she must be good, 
and wise ; she must be a queen among her kind, 
and she shall rule me as she will : slavery to 
such as she, if I shall find her, will be a glorious 
privilege. Well, for years I sought, but by and 
by the failure to find my impossible ideal 
wrought its natural result. I gave up all hope, 
and cherished the image of my boyish fancy 
almost as if it had had an actual existence, and 
by that standard I have measured every woman 
I have met. You will say it was unfair. I too 
was beginning to think so until two weeks ago, 
when I met one who in passing through the 
ordeal has effaced the old picture and created a 
new standard : she is beautiful, she is good, she 
is wise, she is sweet — ah ! how sweet she is ! 
Shall I tell you her name?" 

At first Miss Brainard had glanced at him 
quickly, a startled look on her face, then she 
clasped her hands nervously and walked slowly 
on, her eyes upon the ground. Before he had 
finished, her breath came quickly, she had grown 
pale, and she choked back a sob as she 
answered him. 

No," she said, in a scarcely audible tone. 

At that moment they came in sight of us 


BROKEN BONDS. 


49 


who had turned back, and they both walked 
silently on until we joined them. 

^‘Well,’’ said I, ‘^you two people look as if 
you were going to a funeral.” 

Mrs. Brainard and I had the conversation to 
ourselves on the drive back, and in the pauses I 
tried to conjecture what had occurred. 

We were to leave on the early train in the 
morning, so we said good-night and good-by 
to the people with whom we had become best 
acquainted, and finally shook hands with the 
Brainards. The elder lady said with hospitable 
earnestness, “ If you both do not come to see 
us when we get back I shall never forgive 
you.” 

While I was saying a few last words to her, 
Arthur went to Miss Brainard and said, “Your 
mother has very kindly invited us to call ; would 
you be displeased if I should come?” 

“ No,” she said softly, “ I should be glad.” 

His face lighted up. He hesitated a moment 
and then almost whispered, “ Will you give me 
that flower ? ” 

She blushed, and after a little indecision 
impulsively took it from her dress and handed 
it to him ; and then she turned away, her head 
drooping, and her hands clasped. 

“ Good-by,” he said. She took his hand and 
met his glance for a moment — and it was over. 
But there remained to him the flower and the 


BROKEN BONDS. 


SO 

remembrance of the gentle pressure from the 
soft little hand. 

I had seen the symptoms growing from the 
faintest doubtful indications to indisputable 
proof, but I had refrained from asking for his con- 
fidence. When I entered his room he was 
standing at the window looking up at the 
sky, a most woebegone expression on his 
face. 

“ Van, I want to tell you something.” 

“ All right,” I said, sitting down to prepare 
comfortably for what I knew was coming. 
He seated himself opposite me. 

“ By the way,” he remarked, smiling faintly, 
“you needn’t look so preternaturally innocent. 
You have seen something of what has been 
going on, and perhaps you have made guesses 
which are near the truth, but I want you now to 
know every thing, that you may not make the 
mistake of talking on the wrong side of the 
question. Let me anticipate your arguments 
and reproaches by telling you that this is a case 
past all remedy.” 

To say I was surprised, would not adequately 
express my emotions. I knew he liked the girl, 
and felt, perhaps in a stronger degree, the res- 
pect with which she had inspired me, but I had 
supposed a little reflection in his cooler mo- 
ments would array against a passing fancy all the 
cogent reasons he had so often voiced to prove 


BROKEN BONDS. 


51 


that marriage is but another name for fatuous 
idiocy. 

I sighed from the depth of my soul. 

“ So you are engaged. I suppose I shall 
become reconciled to the idea in time. At any 
rate, old man,” I continued more heartily, “ I can 
congratulate you sincerely upon doing the best 
you possibly could have done, since you were 
bent upon taking a wife. She is very charm- 
ing.” 

He paid no attention to my outstretched 
hand, but said dolefully, “ We are not engaged.” 

“Ah!” I exclaimed. “Then there is still a 
chance that ” 

He cut me short ; “ No, there is no chance, I 
am too hard hit, old man.” 

“ Is it as bad as that ? ” 

“ Yes, as bad — or as good.” And then he told 
me how he had first been impressed by her 
beauty, then had discovered one or two traits 
which won his respect ; how he had begun to 
watch her closely, and the more vigilant his 
espionage became the more he was compelled 
to admire her; how he had cursed his weakness 
for thrilling at the touch of the dress she wore, 
or the pressure of her hand upon his arm ; how 
time after time he had resolved to break away 
from the influence and could not command the 
courage to make the attempt ; how he had 
struggled against the growth of the passion, 


52 


BROKEN BONDS. 


and knew now that long before he was willing to 
acknowledge it to himself, he loved her ; how 
finally, this morning, fearing to let her go back 
to the influence of other men, and carried away 
by his emotion, he had been upon the point 
of declaring his love, but she had prevented 
him. It was premature, he knew, but he could 
not help it. “ But, Van,” he concluded, “ what- 
ever may happen, if in the end she refuses me, 
if she were to treat me with scorn and contempt, 
I shall love her until I die.” Knowing him, I 
knew what he said was true. He said nothing 
to me at that time about the gift of the rose, 
and of course I knew nothing of her blushing 
confession that she would be glad if he would 
call when they returned, so I believed with him 
that his chances were neither good nor bad. 

The next morning we came back to town. 


IV. 


I F unrequited affection makes of other men 
the insufferable bore that Arthur was to 
me during the three weeks that followed, I sin- 
cerely compassionate their friends. He could 
talk of nothing, think of nothing, but that girl 
— he was so far gone that he said he fretted at 
having to waste part of the twenty-four hours 
in sleep, for, try as he might, he could not dream 
of her. Over and over again he would recall 
to me each trivial incident of their brief 
acquaintance, but his endeavor to extract a lit- 
tle comfort from a recollection of her words or 
manner always ended in discouragement. I 
had not the effrontery to hold out any hope 
to him, for I honestly believed he had utterly 
failed to make any impression on her heart. All 
I felt justified in doing was to call to his atten- 
tion the fact that their acquaintance had been 
too brief to expect she should care for him. 

‘‘But,” he would say, “from the first I felt 
that she was the one woman I could love.” 

“You expect too much if you think she is 
going to forget in a moment all her prejudices 
in favor of correct young Englishmen. Go and 


54 


BROKEN BONDS. 


see her this fall and give her a chance to know 
you." 

You will notice that at this time I com- 
menced swimming with the tide. I was finally 
convinced it would be worse than useless — a 
waste of time — to try to bring him back to rea- 
son. I made up my mind to help him as far as 
I, who have had no experience of my own in 
such matters, was capable of doing. He was 
past cure : that was certain, and any other con- 
dition would be an improvement on his present 
frame of mind; so I, even I, would aid and 
abet a fellow-man, and that man my dearest 
friend, to pay court to a woman. It should be 
my first and last lapse from common sense, and 
I mentally asked absolution of my conscience. 

One evening Arthur showed me a card on 
which was engraved, “ Mrs. J. P. Brainard " and 
underneath “ Miss Alice Brainard " and the 
number of their residence. ^‘Van," said he, “ I 
want you to oblige me by calling there soon, and 
find out if they — if she would be glad to see me." 

“ Don’t be absurd," said I; “ she told you with 
her own lips she expected you. I’d rather you 
would come with me." 

But he was obstinate, and the following Tues- 
day evening being stormy I surmised they 
would be at home, so started on my diplomatic 
mission, by this time thoroughly interested in 
the success of my friend’s suit. 


BROKEN BONDS. 


55 


They lived in a house which in any other 
country would be a show place and dubbed by 
Baedeker a “ palace/' It is one of those man- 
sions, erected during the last few years, of 
which there are so many near Central Park 
above Fifty-eighth Street. The interior was 
quite in keeping with the outside, and displayed 
a lavish expenditure of money, which is not 
remarkable ; but also, what is less frequently 
encountered, the most perfect taste. The tone 
of the drawing room was luxurious to the last 
degree, but there was no offensive glitter, no 
gaudy piece of drapery or inartistic picture to 
destroy the perfect harmony of the general 
effect, and I was compelled to acknowledge that 
if this good taste emanated from the daughter, 
I must give her credit for qualities I had not 
supposed she possessed. 

I really had a most enjoyable evening, and 
was congratulating myself that here was a fam- 
ily that did not bore me — one more house to be 
added to the small list of those I liked to visit 
occasionally, when a young man came in, and 
was introduced to me as Mr. Purvie. He was 
moderately tall, very narrow in the chest, had 
coal black hair and eyes, a sallow complexion, 
and he took care to make a lavish display of a 
set of gleaming white teeth when he smiled, 
which he did very often. I could not but 
c^dmire the graceful curve of the well tended 


56 


BROKEN BONDS. 


mustache and the correct elegance of his 
dress. 

His first remark, after greeting the ladies, 
was: 

“ It is a beastly disagreeable evening, don’t 
you think? This sort of weather quite knocks 
one up.” But he didn’t say “ up ” — as he pro- 
nounced it, it sounded like “ app.” 

He sat down and the conversation became 
general ; he talked rather well, but I could not 
exactly make him out. Was he an English- 
man ? Yes, he must be; but where had he 
picked up those broad Western expressions he 
sometimes used when he became interested ? 

I concluded that his footing in this house- 
hold was pretty secure, and that Miss Alice at 
least found him very agreeable. They appeared 
to be on the most confidential terms, and I 
overheard her tell him she expected to go to 
the Opera the next evening and should count 
on his coming to the box. Before I took my 
leave I was sure that this man was the stumb- 
ling-block in Arthur’s way. 

Miss Brainard politely expressed regret that 
my friend had not accompanied me, and the 
elder lady cordially said she liked him very 
much and hoped he would soon come to see 
them, and that I too must not make of myself 
a stranger. 

The next morning as I came down stairs I 


BROJTEN- BONDS. 


57 


glanced at the list of new members who had 
been elected at the recent meeting of the com- 
mittee, and at the top was the name, Philo. D. 
Purvie, It was an odd name. In all proba- 
bility this was the man I had met last evening. 
Arthur joined me at breakfast — he lived at the 
club also — his impatience to know the result of 
my visit afforded me an excellent opportunity 
to provoke him, so I gave the waiter the order 
with unusual deliberation. When I had fin- 
ished, before he could say a word, I purposely 
launched out into the analysis of a legal tech- 
nicality which had arisen in one of the causes 
recently submitted to me, and expatiated at 
length on the merits of the question, until 
finally he suspected I was teasing him, and in- 
terrupted me in the middle of a magnificent 
burst of eloquence, with ‘^Stop that infernal 
nonsense, will you ? and tell me what I want to 
know ! ” 

“ All right. I haven't much to tell though.” 

“ Out with it, whatever it is. Bad news is 
better than this suspense after a sleepless 
'night.” 

I gave him an exact account of what had oc- 
curred, repeating every word that was said as 
nearly as I could remember, and it really 
affected me to see how pleased he was when I 
told him she was expecting him to call. It 
was a very little thing to carry with it such a 


BROKEN BONDS. 


58 

lot of satisfaction. He must simply worship 
her. He was greatly troubled about Mr. Pur- 
vie. “ That is the man she said she liked bet- 
ter than any American she had met.” And 
then I had to again go over my description of 
his appearance, and the way in which they 
treated him, and my opinion of his deserts, un- 
til I was heartily sick of the whole matter, and 
glad to finally break away from him and go 
down town. 

Arthur went very soon to call at the Brain- 
ards’. He found a gentleman in the drawing 
room, evidently waiting for one of the ladies ; 
which one ? There couldn’t be much doubt, 
unless he was some relative, for his age put it out 
of the question that he had called to see the 
elder — he was evidently waiting for Miss Alice. 
Did not this man answer the description I had 

given him of Mr. what the deuce was the 

outlandish name of that fellow who had re- 
cently come into the club? This must be he — 
not a bad looking chap, either, and well gotten 
up, too — there might have been a little more 
intelligence in the face, perhaps, but women 
would call him handsome — well, he would keep 
his eyes open, and try to find his vulnerable 
point. He hears a rustling noise as the door 
opens, and his heart is beating quickly and his 
face is radiant as he steps toward her, and hears 
her say in the voice that has been always of 


Broken bonds. 


59 


late ringing in his brain, ‘‘ I am very glad in- 
deed to see you, Mr. Wardwell. I was afraid 
you had quite forgotten us. Now confess, 
wasn’t it your friend who put you in mind of 
us ? ” Then she caught sight of Mr. Purvie, 
who had been hidden by Arthur’s superior 
stature, and greeted him with a smile and a lit- 
tle familiar nod which that gentleman replied 
to in the same mute manner, and to my friend 
it seemed to denote a perfect understanding. 
She made the two men known to each other, 
and said, “ I think you two ought to be very 
good friends, for you are so unlike each 
other.” 

“ That is somewhat paradoxical ; your pro- 
cess of reasoning must be a peculiar one.” 

^‘Not at all, you know they say people to get 
along well together must not possess similar 
tastes or dispositions.” 

“ But, do you think you know what my tastes 
are sufficiently well to be able to contrast them 
with Mr. Purvie’s?” 

“ I haven’t known you long, but I fancy I 
can divine what you would be likely to care 
for. That is the only thing I pretend to be 
clever at, and when you have seen what a sor- 
ceress I am, you will banish that incredulous 
smile. To begin : I am sure, quite sure, you do 
not care for dancing, or any such frivolity.” 

Was this girl deliberately recalling that con- 


6o 


BROKEN BONDS. 


versation in the ball room for the purpose of 
mortifying him? He had intimated then that 
he was not a dancing man ; he looked straight 
into her eyes and the suspicion vanished ; she 
could not be capable of it. 

“ This is hardly fair ; you have been mentally 
measuring my boots." 

“ You need not expect any compliments. I 
am going to fearlessly tell you the truth. You 
do not care for riding or any form of violent 
exercise. I fear you are inclined to indolence ; 
you would like to live a life of peaceful inac- 
tion — a dolce far niente sort of existence, with 
plenty of money and nothing to disturb you. 
You have the savior f air but you lack verve 
to make you a thorough-going man of the 
world." 

Something would persist in whispering to him 
that this was a spoiled child, who had been led 
by over-indulgence and flattery to believe her 
opinions worthy of unquestioning indorsement, 
but — the true metal was there, and he would 
make it ring out its own honest tone yet. 

He said, It is fortunate for you we are 
not living in the old Colonial days, when they 
burned witches who uttered disagreeable truths. 
I infer that Mr. Purvie possesses all the quali- 
ties which you say I lack." 

Mr. Purvie displayed a dazzling array of 
teeth, as he said with his highly cultivated 


BROKEN BONDS. 


6i 


accent, “ I must protest, Miss Brainard, you 
are too awfully complimentary. Don’t you 
know, I don’t think a man ought to take 
credit to himself for those things, for they are 
a matter of education. Almost every man I 
know can ride and tool a pair of horses and all 
that.” 

There wasn’t much point to this speech, but 
he evidently wanted to insinuate that he asso- 
ciated with a “ correct ” set and did the “ cor- 
rect ” thing himself, and that he didn’t think 
any man who could not do those things was 
proper form ” at all. 

“You ride a great deal in England?” Arthur 
suggested. 

He appeared a little annoyed : “ Yes, when 
I am there I ride to hounds a lot.” 

He turned to Miss Brainard and was about 
to speak — but Arthur was not yet through 
with him ; he thought he detected an evasion 
and he would satisfy himself — he said quickly, 
“ How often do you go there?” 

He would not give a direct answer. 

“ I haven’t been on the other side now in two 
years.” 

“ Do you not get homesick after being away 
from your native land so long? ” 

“ Why, no, I — that is, I am not an English- 
man, you know — I am an American.” 

“ I beg your pardon, I was misled by your 


62 


BROKEN BONDS. 


accent : I presume you acquired that by a long 
residence there ? ” 

This time he was positively annoyed and 
showed it by forgetting to talk unnaturally. 

“ I was there a little less than a year.” 

Why, Mr. Purvie,” said Miss Brainard, “is 
it possible you were in England no longer than 
that? I supposed you had been there nearly 
all your life from the lot you have told me 
about your adventures. That must have been 
a very busy year.” 

He was glum by this time. “Yes, it was,” 
was all he answered, and his face did not look 
as handsome as when it wore a smiling 
expression. 

“ What do you do with yourself all day 
long, Mr. Wardwell ? I never see you in the 
Park.” 

Evidently this girl’s ideas of life were a trifle 
narrow and crude. 

“ Why, if you are so accomplished a clair- 
voyant, you ought to know that I do nothing 
but lie upon a bank of daffodils and daisies 
and dream that even existence is wrong, since 
it necessitates exertion.” 

“ Now you are laughing at me. But I really 
do think you would not take the trouble to do 
any thing like hard work.” 

He became very serious and she saw she had 
hurt him. 


BROKEN BONDS. 63 

I regret you should have that opinion of 
me,” said he quietly. 

Mr. Purvie had by this time smoothed out 
the wrinkles and recovered his accent ; he was 
looking for a chance to cry quits with Arthur. 

‘‘ I should feel complimented if any one were 
to say that of me. For my part, I think there 
ought to be in society a distinct line drawn 
between people who work and those who do 
not.” 

I quite agree with you,” Arthur said mean- 
ingly, with a little smile which was reflected on 
Miss Brainard’s face ; but this indorsement did 
not seem to suit him, he was worsted again. 
Pretty soon he rose, pleading another engage- 
ment, and took his leave. 

As the door shut him out Arthur sighed 
with intense relief. 

He was alone with her. Was she sorry the 
other man had gone first? He would find out. 
“ I hope my presence had nothing to do with 
Mr. Purvie’s departure,” he ventured suggest- 
ively. 

“ I think what you said to him had some- 
thing to do with it, and I am afraid I shall 
have to abandon my theory that you and he 
would get along well together.” 

“ I am very sorry, I had not intended to be 
rude.” 

“ Oh, he will come back,” said she, with a 


64 


BROKEN BONDS. 


little smile ; ‘‘ he always does, no matter how 
seriously he may be offended. I quarrel 
dreadfully with that man, but he doesn’t seem 
to care. I don’t know what I should do if I 
no longer had any one to tease. And he is so 
serious at times — that is when he amuses me 
most.” 

Will you permit' me to speak frankly to 
you. Miss Brainard ? ” 

She colored slightly, and said, “Yes, that 
is — ” 

He saw her embarrassment, and hastened to 
say with a tinge of bitterness he could not 
altogether conceal, “You need not be alarmed, 
I will not forget myself again. I was going to 
say that I think you could if you chose drive a 
man to despair, and I am afraid you are not 
merciful.” 

“ Oh, he doesn’t mind, I can’t seriously 
offend him : he doesn’t care for what I say : I 
would not treat every one as I do him : you 
know he is a very old friend. But let us talk 
of something more interesting. Have you 
been to the exhibition at the Academy?” 

“ I was there for a few moments at the pri- 
vate view.” 

“Why, so was I, but I didn’t see you, though 
I admired a picture by an artist of your 
name — a relative probably, is he not?” 

“ Yes, a near relation,” he said. 


BROKEN BONDS. 


65 


She was looking at him steadily, but he 
would not meet her eyes. After a little pause 
she said, “ What are your initials, Mr. Ward- 
well ? ” 

“A. D.” 

Did you paint that picture?" 

“ Well — yes — I did," he confessed reluctantly. 
“Will you forgive me? I had made the figure 
of the girl with quite a different face, but some- 
how when I came to finish it after my return 
to town, I could not resist an impulse that had 
taken fast hold of me, and I involuntarily 
changed it ; after all, it is not a perfect likeness. 
Will you say that you are not offended?" he 
pleaded earnestly. 

She did not reply, but sat looking at him in 
an absorbed dreamy way, her eyes half closed 
and with heightened color. But was she 
vexed or pleased? He could not tell. All he 
was certain of was that it would be dangerous 
to gaze long in silence upon that perfect face — 
he would be losing his head presently. Finally 
she spoke. 

“Yes, I will forgive you, if you will let me 
purchase the picture." 

“ Pardon me, it is not for sale. I am not an 
artist." 

“ You are not an artist ! " said she, with 
wide open eyes ; “ then how could you have 
painted so beautiful a picture ? Why, my 


66 


BROKEN BONDS. 


friends all said they knew at once that the face 
was intended for me, but of course I had no 
idea you had done it. If you are not an artist, 
what are you ? ” 

“ Does a sorceress need to be told ? I 
thought I was an idler who could do nothing 
well except wish to be relieved from the task 
of existing.” 

Please don’t take every thing I say au 
grand serieux^' said she, with a pretty little air 
of entreaty. “ Won’t you tell me if you have 
a business or profession ? ” 

“ I am a lawyer, but I find time for the indul- 
gence of the few artistic tastes I have. You 
see I am not eminent in my profession, as I 
hope to be some day, and am not always 
busy.” 

Are you ambitious to make a great name 
for yourself? Oh! if I were a man I should 
try so hard to achieve a success that would 
make all the world applaud.” 

This was her true self, impulsive, great- 
hearted, ambitious, as he had known so surely 
she must be. 

“ A woman in her sphere can live as noble a 
life as the man who gains the approbation of 
the world, but true women in these degenerate 
days are seldom encountered ; I am not preach- 
ing,” he said, with a smile, “ I state what my 
observation has taught me,” 


BROKEN BONDS. 


67 


“Are we, SO full of faults? And yet there 
are apparently a sufficient number of men ready 
to fall in love with us — or is it our money, I 
wonder? But poor girls are married too, so it 
can not always be a matter of dollars and 
cents.’- 

Arthur was disturbed ; had this girl money? 
He had never given it a thought. She cer- 
tainly must have ; if her surroundings indicated 
any thing, it was that this establishment neces- 
sitated the possession of a very large income by 
the occupant, and, her father being dead, prob- 
ably what she had was hers in her own right. 
The possession of a fortune would have a ten- 
dency to make any woman suspicious of the 
motives of her admirers, and she had without 
doubt thought him capable of deliberately lay- 
ing siege to her heart with her bank account in 
full view. 

“ Should I ever marry, a thing which I used 
to think irr^ossible, and which now seems 
unlikely, I should want my wife to come to me 
without a penny. I should think the home 
which is not provided for by the husband, could 
not be a happy one.” 

There was a look on her face of admira- 
tion. 

“ But how could any one get along without 
money ? I suppose I never think of it, because 
I have all I want, but I know sometimes I have 


68 


BROKEN BONDS. 


to use a lot, and then if I hadn’t it, it would be 
bad, wouldn’t it ? ” 

He was amused at the matter-of-course way- 
in which she regarded the possession of her own 
wealth. 

I once knew what it was to be without a 
penny for two weeks, and in a strange land, too ; 
you wouldn’t have liked that, would you ? 

“No, indeed. Please tell me about it. What 
country were you in ? ” 

“ The most beautiful in the world, I think — 
Switzerland.” 

“ I didn’t know you had been abroad.” 

“Yes, I wandered about there for six years.” 

She was intensely interested now. The fact 
that he had been abroad seemed to him to 
establish more confidential relations at once. 
He related the little incident, which was noth- 
ing more than the loss of his trunk in which he 
had carelessly put his letter of credit, and on 
the presentation of his bill at the “ Hotel Baur 
au Lac ” in Constance, the manager had politely 
listened to his story, and as courteously inti- 
mated that he did not believe a word of it; but 
suggested that if Arthur would like to accept 
the position of his assistant, the regular incum- 
bent being ill, and Arthur having the necessary 
knowledge of French and German, he might 
stay there a week or two, and would receive his 
board and lodging, but no money. On those 


BROKEN BONDS. 


69 


conditions he would forgive him the amount of 
the bill. The idea was absurd, but Arthur 
knew no one there, and there was no choice, so 
he closed with the offer at once, and with the 
help of a few necessary articles of clothing which 
he happened to have in his satchel, managed to 
get along very well. In the meantime he tele- 
graphed his lawyer in New York, to cable him 
a remittance at once ; but that gentleman was 
shooting deer in the Adirondacks and did not 
return until ten days thereafter, when he hast- 
ened to send the money, and wrote profuse 
apologies. As luck would have it, the missing 
trunk turned up, and the funds arrived on the 
same day. The adventure had not amounted 
to any thing, but it had taught him that to be 
without pocket money for two weeks is not a 
desirable predicament. 

She listened to him with deep attention, and 
said how plucky of him it was to attempt such 
a thing. Had he been all over Europe ? 

No, he had never been to Russia ; he had 
wandered around staying as long in a place as 
he felt amused, and then going on to the next 
town, or perhaps, if he happened to be on the 
Continent, and felt tired of listening to foreign 
tongues, he would run over to England, where 
he knew some people. After a little experi- 
ence he had learned to shun the places in the 
line of tourists’ travel, and had enjoyed himself 


70 


BROKEN BONDS. 


far better in the less accessible parts of Spain 
and the Austrian Tyrol. He had come back a 
better American than when he started. He 
liked his own country best, though he was not 
as fortunate as some, in having a home to come 
back to. “ My poor mother died when I was 
very young, and I sometimes wish that when 
she left me I had not been old enough to retain 
a distinct recollection of her, for the thought of 
what a home her love would have made for me, 
calls up bitter regrets and useless anger.” 

His voice was not quite steady ; the thought 
of his mother’s early death always aroused a 
mingled sense of sorrowful regret and unreason- 
ing rage ; he looked away, half ashamed of his 
emotion — she would not understand him, he 
thought. 

“ Poor fellow ! ” 

He started ; she was leaning forward in her 
chair, her hands clasped and her face and her 
whole air expressive of the sweetest, tenderest 
pity. His passionate glance recalled her to 
herself, and she said quickly, but only just in 
time to check him — “ Shall I sing for you, Mr. 
Wardwell ?” 

She rose and he followed her slowly. 

“ Now,” said she, as she seated herself at the 
piano, “ you shall choose the song ; what shall 
it be?” 

“Do you know that little French chanson- 


BROKEN BONDS. 


71 


ette, I have forgotten the name of it, but it 
begins “ Si vous n’avez rien — and he hummed 
a bar or two. Yes, she knew it, and as she 
uttered the tender notes, it seemed to him that 
the meaning of the word ecstasy would be 
expressed for him, in placing both his hands 
tenderly upon her lovely hair and gently, rev- 
erently, kissing that pure, young face. 

She stopped playing and exclaimed sud- 
denly : “ I have an idea ! — but, no, you do not 
ride.’’ 

“ Oh, yes, I do,” he hastened to say. 

“ Really ? I think it is unkind of you to 
turn out to be so different from the character I 
gave you. Is there any thing, I wonder, you 
can not do ?” 

Her beauty was maddening ; it had intoxi- 
cated him. 

He looked into her eyes and said, ‘‘ Yes, there 
is one thing I had set my whole heart and soul 
upon doing, but I — ” 

She cut him short. “Well, I am awfully 
glad you can ride, for I want you to go with 
me to the Park day after to-morrow at half-past 
four.” 

He was delighted ; this was something he had 
not hoped for, fate had evidently come over to 
his side. 

“ I can give you a mount,” she went on ; 
“ Mr. Purvie will be one of the party.” 


72 


BROKEN BONDS. 


That confounded fellow again, that altered 
the case ; should he go ? Yes, for it might lead 
to other rides when the objectionable third party 
would be absent. 

So it was arranged that he should go, and, 
saying good-night, he left his heart and all his 
hopes behind him, and came away. 

He knew now that if he was to live con- 
tentedly in the future it must be with her, and 
his great wonder was, how he had existed all 
these years without her. 


V. 


H e crossed over to the walk next to the 
stone wall which separates Fifth Avenue 
from the Park and sauntered along slowly, 
thinking, as well as the chaotic state of his 
brain would permit him, of the evening he had 
spent, and trying to reduce the confusing impres- 
sions to a net result. Had he made any prog- 
ress ? Yes, he thought he had ; why, of course, 
he had gotten along famously, but she wouldn’t 
hear a tender word yet ; would she ever listen 
to him ? However, he was sure of one thing ; 
she was no longer artificial with him; she 
seemed to be influenced by something he had 
said or done to lay aside the mask, and how 
inexpressibly charming she was. 

Two days afterward, at the appointed hour, 
Arthur pushed the electric button which in 
these days of improvements replaces the bell- 
pull, and turned around to admire the horses 
which a groom was holding before the door. 
They were thorough-bred looking animals, and 
were giving the man considerable trouble to 
quiet them. One in particular, a large bay horse 
with a wicked eye, was plunging and rearing in 
the effort to get away. He noticed with sur- 


74 


BROKEN BONDS. 


prise that there were four of them — probably 
the groom was going along, it was rather 
singular. 

Mr. Purvie was there before him, and there 
was a young lady with very blonde hair, fat 
features and round good-natured eyes ; she was 
a Miss Montland. They went down the stoop. 
Miss Brainard saying, “ Now the most experi- 
enced rider in this party being Mr. Purvie, I 
propose he shall have Tony, the big horse, you 
know.” No objection being possible under the 
circumstances, the ladies mounted and then Mr. 
Purvie attempted to get deliberately and in a 
graceful manner upon the back of his horse, 
but Master Tony appeared to entertain decided 
objections to the proceeding, and it required 
the united efforts of Arthur and the groom to 
fix him firmly in the saddle. No sooner was 
the horse’s head released, than he bounded up 
the street, jumping first to one side and then to 
the other and apparently stepping on nothing 
but air, and one plunge more frantic than the 
rest unhorsed his rider, who slid off in spite of 
the despairing effort he was making to retain 
his seat by clutching the mane ; he sank limply 
upon the sidewalk. They were all much 
alarmed, and hastened to ask him if he was hurt, 
while the groom picked him up and brushed off 
the dust. He proved to be uninjured, but was 
dreadfully scared and deeply mortified. 


MoiCEN- BONDS. 


75 


“ Why — why ” — he gasped jerkily, “ what 
an extraordinary horse ! You shouldn't have 
given me such a beast, Miss Brainard ; he must 
be mad.” 

“ I am very sorry,” she said, and there was a 
suspicion of contempt in the look with which 
she regarded his ghastly face and staring eyes ; 
“ he is feeling a little fresh, but you shouldn't 
have pulled on the curb.” 

“Take this horse, Mr. Purvie,” said Arthur, 
as he tied the curb rein up short ; “ she is per- 
fectly gentle and you need only use the snaffle ; 
just leave the curb rein on her neck.” 

He was seized with a new attack of terror. 

“ No, no, I wouldn't for the world. You 
would have to stay at home yourself, no — I am 
going down town — I have an engagement there 
I ought to keep.” 

“ Nonsense, you won't be depriving me of 
the ride at all, I shall use the horse that threw 

y y 

you. 

“ Please, please^ Mr. Wardwell, don’t get on 
that horse.” 

He would have gone through any thing to 
hear her speak like that, to see her face so full 
of a pleading concerned expression. Had he 
been sure of a broken limb he would have rid- 
den the horse now. 

“ I assure you,” said he, “ there is no danger.” 

“ But, pray consider, Mr. Purvie was thrown. 


76 


BROKEN BONDS, 


and he has had so much more experience than 
you.” 

He could not forbear smiling as he said, “ Has 
he? At any rate I am quite sure I won’t be 
thrown, and I beg of you not to be at all uneasy 
on my account.” 

By this time the groom had returned, having 
captured the animal, and was doing his best to 
quiet him and keep out of the way of his hoofs. 

Arthur said, “ Now, my man, just hold that 
right stirrup, will you ? ” 

He put his hunting crop between his teeth, 
gathered the reins up carefully in his left hand, 
and as the horse became quiet for a second he 
thrust his foot quickly into the left stirrup, 
sprang lightly on his back, and as the animal 
reared drove his spurs deep into his sides. 
The infuriated beast leaped madly forward, but 
his rider’s hand was strong and firm, and after a 
few more capers, he stood still, his nostrils 
dilated and his muscles quivering ; he was con- 
quered — for that time, at least. 

After the start the ride was uneventful, and 
to Arthur not particularly pleasant, for, by the 
exercise of well-timed finesse. Miss Brainard, 
with a woman’s perversity, kept Mr. Purvie at 
her side, leaving Miss Montland and Arthur to 
bring up the rear. 

Why did she shun him ? He was miserable 
again, torturing himself with the thought that 


Broken bonds. 


77 


he had unconsciously offended her. He was 
reasonably certain she was not enamored of this 
fellow Purvie, yet there he was engaged in earn- 
est conversation with a girl who ought not to 
waste a thought upon him ; how gracious she 
was too, leaning slightly toward him as if fear- 
ful of losing a word. How well she looked on 
a horse ! Her close fitting habit displaying the 
exquisite curves of her rather slight figure. 
Arthur endeavored to make himself agreeable 
to the young girl who had been allotted him, 
but he was conscious that the attempt was a 
dismal failure. 

As the}^ were going home Miss Brainard rode 
at his side for a moment ; she said in a voice 
that was not audible to the others : 

“ I have discovered another of your accom- 
plishments, your horsemanship is perfect.” 

He fairly blushed with pleasure. 

“ I am a little rusty, but I used to ride 
very well. This is a splendid animal ; is he 
yours ? ” 

“ No, he belongs to a cousin of mine. Jack 
Elmer, who is in school. By the by, that for- 
tunately reminds me I was charged by my 
mother to be sure to ask you to dinner for 
Thursday. It will be quite en famille'^ there will 
be no one but mamma, you. Jack, and myself. 
Jack is coming down to keep the house in an 
uproar while his vacation lasts; I know you’ll 


78 


BROKEN BONDS. 


like him ; he is only eighteen, but he is awfully 

jolly.” 

It may be imagined that this invitation afford- 
ed him great satisfaction ; here was the oppor- 
tunity he had hoped for — to meet them in the 
privacy of their home life ; and for them to 
extend this favor to him, who, after all, was a 
comparative stranger, was evidence that he was 
not classed among their ordinary acquaintances. 

On the following Thursday he found Mrs. and 
Miss Brainard and a young man in the drawing 
room ; he surmised the latter was the cousin ; he 
was a tall fair-haired lanky boy who had attained 
a man’s height at the expense of an undeveloped 
chest ; he had frank blue eyes and an honest 
fearless carriage. He was shy at first, but when 
the novelty of Arthur’s presence had worn off 
his timidity vanished. 

The mother had the rare gift of being unaf- 
fectedly cordial, and the element of constraint 
was noticeably absent ; the dinner was conse- 
quently as unlike the usual appetite-destroying 
affair as possible. 

“What a delightful house you have,” Arthur 
remarked. “ I should think no ordinary tempt- 
ation would make you forsake all this comfort 
for the worry of a two years’ trip abroad ; did 
you not regret having to bid it farewell when 
the time came for leaving?” 

“We did not live here then. I was one of 


BROKEN BONDS. 


79 


those unprogressive New Yorkers who still clung 
to Washington Square. All my life until three 
years ago was passed there, and when the peo- 
pie to whom I sold the house finally took pos- 
session, I think I felt as badly at bidding the 
old home good-by as when I caught the last 
glimpse of the Highlands from the deck of the 
steamer. But," she went on, brightening, “ of 
course I had not my own feelings to consider ; 
I was going because Alice wished to, and I can 
make myself at home wherever she is. We are 
a very small family, but we are united," she 
concluded, smiling. 

He discovered that this woman had one 
thought, one ambition — to try with all her 
heart to keep her daughter’s life in sunny paths, 
and he was touched by the affection that 
lighted up her glance whenever her eyes rested 
upon her ; how thoroughly she was wrapped up 
in her motherly solicitude and pride in the 
girl! To a wanderer like himself, without ties 
or kindred, the contrast of his lonely life with 
the charm of this perfect home, forced upon 
him the conviction that his self-gratulatory con- 
tentment had been an empty delusion made 
plain by this glimpse of what a home might be. 

'‘Aunt," said Jack, “I wish you’d take me 
the next time you go to England ; it must be 
‘ immense ’ to ride to hounds as Mr. Purvie says 
he does ; perhaps if you asked him, Alice, he’d 


So BROKEN BONDB 

give me a letter of introduction to some of his 
friends over there.” 

Alice could not forbear smiling as she caught 
the amused expression on Arthur’s face. 

“I don’t think you had better depend on that, 
Jack.” 

This was practically an implied admission 
that she had lost confidence in Purvie’s state- 
ments, and as a symptom, it gave Arthur a 
disproportionate amount of satisfaction ; it was, 
he felt, one more point gained against the man 
he regarded as his rival, or rather it was a step 
backward for that rival, even if his own affair 
was not bettered any. 

When they had returned to the drawing 
room. Miss Brainard adroitly led him into talk- 
ing of himself, his life abroad, his profession ; 
and Jack leaned forward, drinking in every 
word, completely absorbed and lost in admi- 
ration of a man who could tell of such wonders 
in so matter-of-fact a way, sinking his own per- 
sonality and relating incidents which had hap- 
pened to other men and strange occurrences 
which had come to his knowledge through his 
clients. But he was most interested when 
Arthur came to tell of the queer places he had 
lived in in Spain, of the beauties of Seville, 
the grandeur of the Alhambra, and the horrors 
of the bull fights. Ah ! he would never forget 
that graphic picture of the bull fight ; how he 


BROKEN BONDS. 


8i 


would like to be such a man as this who 
appeared to know every thing and to have been 
everywhere ! And he was made very happy 
when Arthur, who had taken a great fancy to 
the boy, asked him to come to the club to 
dinner the next day. 

He said to Alice that night as he was going 
up stairs. 

“ Do you want to do me a great favor? ” 

Yes, Jack, if I can.” 

“ Well, just try to capture that fellow — he’s a 
brick.” 

I took dinner with them the next day, and 
found the boy most amusing; he was bright, 
clever and manly, and his comments were 
expressed in such crisp sharp language that we 
all three did far more laughing than eating. 
When we went up to the billiard room for a 
game of pool, we found Mr. Purvie there ; we- 
shook hands with him, cigars were ordered, and 
we commenced to play. Mr. Purvie showed to 
better advantage than on any previous occa- 
sion when either of us had seen him, and I 
decided that he wasn’t a bad sort of fellow — 
probably quite up to the caliber of the ordin- 
ary society man — not a genius certainly, but 
gentlemanly and inoffensive; a trifle too boast- 
ful, and perhaps not well born ; but in America 
the latter qualification was superfluous, and, 
providing the man was presentable, it made 


82 


BROKEN BONDS. 


little difference, after all, whether his father had 
been a butcher or the direct descendant of the 
Norman robber, so long as he kept his ancestry 
to himself. 

He pleaded an engagement shortly, and went 
out, and Jack said : 

“ I don’t take any stock in him ; he’s what 
Cousin Alice would call a ‘ cad,’ only she 
always sticks up for him, somehow. I don’t 
think much of his sister, either.” 

“ Perhaps she isn’t pretty enough to suit 
your fastidious taste,” said I. 

“ No, it isn’t that, she’s about as pretty as 
they grow. I’ll tell you what made me down 
on her. The other day, after old Jeffreys had 
left me in the car, at Philadelphia (he’s the 
old fossil that runs my school, you know), Pur- 
vie and a girl got in, but he didn’t notice me, 
and they sat down in the seat in front of me, 
and pretty soon he commenced talking an 
awful lot of soft stuff to her, and when she 
talked to him she wasn’t very choice about 
what she said, I can tell you. She had a 
brogue like a French woman. He happened 
to turn around and saw me, and he got awful 
red, and then he had to introduce his sister, 
and I had a jolly good talk with her.” 

I did not, at the time, attach any import- 
ance to the boy’s chatter, but later on I was 
very glad I had not forgotten it. 


BROKEN BONDS. 


83 


The next two months were to Arthur at 
once the most delightful and the most miser- 
able he had ever experienced, for, while mor- 
ally sure that he had gained a higher place in 
Miss Brainard’s esteem, he was uncertain 
whether she was content to look upon him as 
a suitor, or simply regarded him as a good 
friend of herself and her mother, and he dared 
not risk an open avowal of his love. 

What tortures he had endured in restraining 
himself from clasping her in his arms when she 
had been strongly moved by something he had 
said, and had looked up at him with her lovely 
eyes full of earnest sympathy ! But he dared 
not ; he felt so unworthy of the love of such a 
perfect woman, that he could not believe it 
possible she should care for him. Ah ! if he 
had only yielded to the impulse ! — Well, if he 
had, I should have no story to tell you. 

So between hope and fear he lived upon 
thoughts of her, mechanically performing his 
daily task when away from her, and taking no 
heed of any thing until he found himself in her 
presence ; the hours spent with me, or in his 
office, or at the club, were devoted to looking 
forward to his next interview with her. He 
tried to believe she cared for him a little, for 
otherwise, would she, knowing he loved her, 
encourage his visits? But she never for one 
instant forgot herself ; and purely a woman 


84 


BROKEN BONDS. 


who loved passionately, could not, on all occa- 
sions, preserve a calm exterior. Yet, stay, had 
she done so? Was it only fancy and "his great 
desire that it should be so, which made him 
believe he had at times seen a softly tender 
look in her eyes when they rested upon 
him ? 

He would bear this suspense no longer ; 
there were two of them for her to choose 
between, Purvie and himself. If she preferred 
the other man he would give way. No, he 
could not, he could not ! He would die; there 
were many painless paths out of trouble into a 
peaceful life, and he would take one of them. 
No, he would not do that, it would be cowardly 
and low, but if he could not have her, how 
could he live ? if necessary, he would give his 
body to the torture and his soul to perdition, 
if he could but live the rest of his life with her 
— but without her! He had done nothing to 
deserve a punishment which would make of 
existence a long agony of regret, and he could 
not even think of the possibility of losing 
her. 

Do you think his passion unnaturally strong? 
Well, so did I, but I do not understand those 
things, and he was not in any thing conven- 
tional, you know ; he always went to extremes 
when he was in earnest, and I presume, in a 
case of this kind, his thoroughness would be 


BROKEN BONDS, 85 

as apt to show itself as in any ordinary 
matter. 

I shall remember one evening as long as I 
live. He and I were sitting in the reading 
room, and he had just told me he intended to 
have his fate decided that evening, as he nerv- 
ously chewed the end of his cigar, when Purvie 
joined us ; he was constantly at the club these 
days, and I understood he had been making 
big bets and had lost heavily. On this occa- 
sion he was just a trifle the worse for liquor; 
he sat down, and said : 

“ I say, Wardwell, you seemed to take some 
interest in that irrigation scheme I was talking 
about the other night, don’t you know ? Now 
if you would like to see a working model, you 
might meet me at the house of the inventor 
any day you choose to name. Wait, I’ll give 
you his address,” and he took a letter from his 
pocket, wrote something on the back, and tear- 
ing off the half sheet, handed it to Arthur, who 
took it carelessly and put it in his pocket, 
remarking in a preoccupied way that he would 
let him know when he would go. I thought 
Purvie’s manner indicated suppressed excite- 
ment, an unusual thing in him, but I attributed 
it to the wine he had drunk ; he rose and left 
us abruptly. 

I asked what the scheme was. Arthur said, 
as he understood it, it was some kind of an 


86 


BROKEN BONDS. 


arrangement by means of Artesian wells and 
pumps to irrigate the vast tracts of country in 
such localities as portions of Colorado and 
Arizona, where the rain-fall is insufficient. 

“ I didn’t think Purvie was capable of in- 
venting any thing.” 

He didn’t get it up ; it’s some friend of 
his. Let’s see, what is the name?” He took 
the paper out of his pocket. “ Thos. McDon- 
ald, 498 William Street; ” then he turned the 
scrap over and went on, “Well, I shan’t bother 
myself to — ” he passed his hand across his eyes 
and held the paper up where the strong light 
from an Argand burner could fall full upon it. 

I never in all my life saw such a ghastly horri- 
ble look upon the face of a human being ; for 
a second he seemed struck by death, his eyes 
were glazed, and his face, even his lips were the 
color of a corpse. 

I started up and took his arm, “ What is it ? 
For heaven’s sake what is the matter with 
you ? ” 

He said not a word, but shook me off roughly, 
folded the paper and put it back carefully into 
his pocket, his hand trembling like a drunk- 
ard’s ; turning round he grasped the back of 
the chair to steady himself and walked with 
uncertain steps out of the room and down the 
stairs ; the last glimpse I had of him he was 
leaning heavily on the banisters, his lips parted 


BROKEN BONDS. 87 

and his eyes looking straight before him into 
space. 

I did not follow him, fori imagined he would 
not thank me for interfering. I had no doubt 
it was something connected with his love affair, 
and he would get over it with the aid of soli- 
tude and a little calm reflection. He was hor- 
ribly disturbed, there could be no doubt of 
that ; but then he was in love for the first time 
in his life, and when that sort of thing comes to 
a man who has escaped such foolishness for 
thirty years, it must take a stronger hold upon 
him and cause him to feel more keenly than 
if he were younger, the fears and jealousies, 
always a part of the beautific state which since 
the beginning has made of wise men, weak- 
brained children. These arguments were all 
very well, but they would not drive away the 
image of his face, with its terrible paleness, its 
staring eyes and fallen jaw. Something extra- 
ordinary had happened ; but to follow him now 
would do no good, he was in no state to give me 
an explanation. I would wait until to-mor- 
row morning, when we would meet at break- 
fast. 

I tried to think no more of it, but I caught 
myself every few minutes speculating upon the 
occurrence, and that night my rest was broken 
once with a vision of that tortured face, 


VI. 


HE next morning I waited for him half an 



1 hour, and finally ordered my own break- 
fast. I ate it slowly, every moment expecting 
he would come, and finally sent the waiter to 
his room to call him. When he came down he 
reported that the room was empty and his trunk 
gone. I was amazed ; there must be some mis- 
take. I asked the steward if he had seen him 
that morning ; he said that at seven o’clock Mr. 
Wardwell had ordered a cab, had his trunk 
brought down, and had driven away. This was 
more serious than I had supposed. Where 
could he have gone ? Why did he go without 
saying a word to me ? 

Did you hear him give any directions to 
the driver?” I asked, anxiously. 

“Yes, sir ; just as he was a-getting into the 
cab, he says, ^ Down town as fast as ever you can 
go,’ and cabby, he whipped down the avenue 
like mad. I hope he ain’t a-going for long, 
sir.” 

“ No, I think not. And is that all you heard 
him say ? ” 

“ Every word, sir ; he didn’t look like himself 


BROKEN BONDS. 


89 


at all this morning, sir, he was very pale and 
he kept a-biting his mustache in a kind of a 
nervous way. I hope he ain’t sick, sir? ” 

Not at all. You can say to any one who 
asks for him that he has gone away on business.” 

I went out and down the street, trying to 
think what I should do next. What could I 
do ? Here was this fellow turned rattle-brained 
through a girl, starting off on a trip — a long 
trip, probably, as he had taken his trunk — and 
never saying as much as good-by to me. Of 
course it was that something which had so 
deeply affected him last night that had driven 
him off. What had that been? I could not 
even guess at it, but I could try to find him and 
bring him back to his senses and his friends. 
An idea struck me — perhaps the Brainards 
were going away and he had gone with them. 
Why, of course — strange, I should not have 
thought before of the only influence that had 
ever made him forgetful of me. I would go to. 
their house at once. The servant who opened 
the door said the ladies were at home but were 
at breakfast, would I wait ? No, I would not 
disturb them, I would just write a few lines 
which he would please hand to Mrs. Brainard. 

I scratched on the back of a card, “ Did Arthur 
Wardwell call here last evening, and if so, did he 
say any thing about going away? ” 

I stepped inside the door, and in a minute 


90 


BROKEN BONDS. 


Miss Brainard came running up stairs and said, 
with a troubled white face, “ What is the mat- 
ter? Hasany thing happened ? Please tell me 
quickly.” 

I looked at her and knew that her soul no 
longer slept, that the veil of calm reserve had 
been torn aside by love for him. 

“ It is nothing, Miss Brainard, I assure you. 
Nothing that need alarm you, he will come 
back all right in a day or two, I dare say.” 

“ Come back ! Why where has he gone ? ” 

“That is precisely what I don’t know. Tell 
me, did he come here last evening?” 

“No, and I was expecting him, — I was quite 
certain he would come, for I got a note from 
him in the afternoon saying he would like to 
see me particularly and would call at nine.” 

She blushed, probably she knew from the 
words in which the note was couched that he 
intended to bring matters to a crisis. 

I was greatly perplexed ; he had not seen her 
and yet I was sure something in which she was 
more or less directly concerned had occurred to 
drive him away. It must be a graver affair 
than I had supposed, or he would have kept 
his appointment. As I glanced at the beauti- 
ful girl sitting opposite me, I knew, had he 
spoken to her last evening he would now have 
been the happiest man in all the world. That 
air of tender concern, and the deep blush as she 


BROKEN BONDS. 


9 ^ 


spoke of him told me as plainly as if she had 
said so, that she loved him. 

“ Don’t be anxious ; he was probably called 
away suddenly on business and will be back in 
a day or two.” 

When did you see him last ? ” 

At about eight o’clock last night at the 
club,” and I told her how he had left me with- 
out a word. 

‘‘Strange,” said she, and then she leaned 
forward and said, “You know that he and 
I — that is — that we — we are very great friends, 
and I want you to promise me you will find 
him and bring him back.” Her voice was a lit- 
tle unsteady. I saw that she was struggling to 
master her feelings, so I rose at once and said, 
“ You may depend upon it I shall find him soon, 
and I beg you will not be uneasy ; I am confi- 
dent it is nothing more serious than some 
annoying business engagement. I will immedi- 
ately report to you the least scrap of news.” 

She gave me her hand, and turning away her 
head, said, “ Thank you, so much.” 

Now, said I to myself, when I was in the 
street once more, where am I to begin ? 
Where could he have gone? He had no secrets 
from me, and I knew there was no business mat- 
ter that would take him away, while on the 
other hand there was everything to keep him 
in town. I would go first to his office ; there 


92 


BROKEN BONDS. 


was just a possibility he had taken his trunk 
there for some purpose. I hailed a cab, and on 
the way I endeavored to go over the situation 
calmly in the vain hope of finding some clew to 
his purpose in running away from such a woman. 
I was compelled to acknowledge to myself that 
if this girl loved him a man might be excused 
for taking the irrevocable step. The office boy 
informed me that Arthur had not been there 
since the day before yesterday, and had left no 
particular instructions. 

I felt discouraged and was at my wit’s end ; 
the only thing to be done now was to go to my 
own office and wait for a message, which he 
might send me ; if that did not come, and he had 
not returned, the last resort would be to call in 
the services of a private detective, for he might 
have been lured into a trap and made the vic- 
tim of foul play ; this was very possible, for he 
always persisted, in spite of my remonstrances, 
in carrying a large sum of money in his pocket. 
I remained in my office until fouro^clock, but no 
word came from him, and I went up town. 
There was no news of him at the club, and now, 
completely discouraged, I went to the Brainards’. 
They had hoped for some tidings, and were 
greatly distressed when they learned I had 
none. Jack, in particular, although he was not 
as concerned as his cousin, was more demon- 
strative. 


BROKEN BONDS. 93 

Why, I should think it would be easy 
enough to find him ; he’s too smart to let any 
body get the best of him ; if he’d been going 
for a long time he would have let us know. I 
guess he’ll turn up all right to-morrow.” He 
turned to me and asked if he could go with 
me and help in the search. I thought 
perhaps I might be able to make him useful, and 
his hopefulness would cheer me up, so I con- 
sented, and we went out together. 

“ Let’s see,” said he, “ in the first place he 
went away this morning in a cab ; I suppose you 
have seen the driver ? ” 

No, I had not. I had wasted a whole day, 
and here was this boy suggesting the simplest 
and most practical method of finding out what 
we wanted to know. Decidedly my head was 
getting thick. When I confessed to him I had 
not thought of it, I could see he was inwardly 
delighted. 

On interrogating the boy who had fetched 
the cab, he said he could easily find it again, as 
he knew the driver. In a few moments the 
vehicle drove up and I hastened to put my 
questions to the driver. Had a gentleman 
hired him that morning at the club at about 
seven o’clock ? 

Well, yes, he had taken in a gent at about 
seven, but had that boy brought him all the way 
around there to answer a pack of questions ? 


94 


BROKEN BONDS. 


*‘Yes, but it' will be worth your while to 
answer them correctly,” and I slipped some 
money into his hand. 

“ Oh, all right, boss, all right. I’ll tell you all I 
know about it. Yer see the gent had his trunk 
put on top and he was gitten in an’ I says, 
‘Whereto?’ An’ he says, ‘Down town quick,’ 
says he. An’ when we got down to Bleecker 
Street he sticks his head out er the window an' 
says he, ‘ I want a paper,’ he says. So pretty 
soon I see a boy an’ I says, ‘ The gent inside 
wants a paper, Johnny.’ — Yer see, boss. I’m 
givin’ yer all the partic’lers. I s’pose that’s all 
right.” 

“ Yes, yes, go on — go on.” 

“Well bime by, when we was down by the 
City Hall, the gent he sticks his head out er the 
window agin an’ he says, ‘ Do you know where 
the Cunard Line ofhce is,’ says he, an’ I says, ‘Of 
course I do. ’ ‘ Well,’ he says, ‘ drive there 

as quick as ever you kin.’ I got him there in 
no time, and he went in, and after a while he 
come out an’ he says, ‘ Drive to the Cunard pier, 
quick,’ says he. An’ I got him there all right, 
an’ he had his trunk put aboard, an’ if every 
gent give me what he did I wouldn’t drive no 
hack long, you kin bet ; an’ that’s all I know 
about it.” 

“ You say he went aboard the steamer — what 
vessel was it ?” 


jbroken bonds. 


9 $ 


“ The ‘ Gallia.’ ” 

“ Do you know when she sails ? ” 

“ She left a half hour after the gent got 
aboard.” 

Now we knew the worst ;the fellow could tell 
us nothing more, so I thanked him and we went 
in. 

The dinner was a gloomy affair enough. I 
expected the worst news would have been a 
great deal better than this, and I felt like a man 
who has staked his last dollar and lost. Why 
had he done this insane thing ? Ay, that was 
the question! What was it that had driven him 
to it ? 

Jack said very little, but I believe he felt as 
badly as I did ; but he managed to eat some- 
thing, and pretty soon he commenced to take a 
more hopeful view. 

When we had arrived at cigarettes and coffee, 
he said : 

“ I’ll bet you anything you like he got a tele- 
gram from some one in England to come over 
right off — he’s been there so much he must 
know a lot of people, and maybe some of them 
got into trouble and asked him to go over. It 
would be just like him to take the first steamer 
and go and help ’em out, wouldn’t it ? ” 

I shook my head, “ No, Jack, that can’t be it; 
I knew all his affairs, and if he had received any 
such message I should have heard of it at once. 


96 BROKEN BONDS. 

Besides, that would not account for his leaving 
me without a word. There is your cousin too." 

“ Yes, that’s so, that’s what puzzles me. You 
ought to see how she went on to-day after you 
left ; I finished my breakfast just as you shut the 
door, and I found her in the hall leaning her head 
against the wall and crying like a good fellow. 
I asked her what the matter was, and she said, 
‘Don’t, Jack, don’t ask me ; ’ and then aunt 
came up and put her arm round her, and told 
her to tell her all about it, and I heard her say, 

‘ Oh ! mamma, mamma, I didn’t know I loved 
him so, and now he has gone away.’ Well, she 
cried right straight ahead and couldn’t say a 
word until aunt got her up stairs. Afterward 
I heard all about it, and maybe I wasn’t sur- 
prised to think he had gone ! But it’ll all come 
out right, after all.’’ 

I could only say, “ I hope so. Jack, I hope 
so.’’ 

Mr. Purvie came in looking quite as irre- 
proachable as usual and perhaps a thought more 
jaunty: he sauntered up to our table and 
accepted my invitation to take a little Cognac, 
saying as he sat down, “ I don’t see your friend 
about this evening ; I presume he finds the soci- 
ety of Miss B. a deal more agreeable even than 
yours.’’ 

“ No, he is not here,’’ said I, ignoring the lat- 
ter part of his remark. 


BROKEN BONDS, 


97 


Where is he ? ” 

This man was curious, and his direct question 
annoyed me ; but I reflected that he was in all 
probability suffering the pangs of the most acute 
jealousy, for he must have seen that Arthur 
was in his way at the Brainards’. Allowances 
must be made for a man who thought himself 
in danger of losing such a girl. Should I tell 
him that he had gone without a word? No, it 
would leak out eventually, but there was no 
necessity for crying it from the house tops. 

“ I really don’t know where he is.” This was 
literally true, for at that time he might be off 
Fire Island or Montauk Point. 

“ I am sorry not to see him, for I thought 
perhaps he would go to-morrow to inspect a 
patent I am interested in. You haven’t any 
idea where I would be likely to find him ? ” 

“ No, I could not say, as I told you before.” 

He thanked me, and making an elaborate bow 
left us. A thought occurred to me. I would 
send a cable message to meet the steamer on 
its arrival at Queenstown. Jack applauded the 
idea, and we set our heads together to decide 
how it should be worded ; we finally agreed 
upon this form : — 

To Arthur War dwells on board Steamer 
Gallia^ Queenstown^ Irela^id, 

We all beg you to come back immediately . 

Van, 


BROKEN BONDS. 


“ You see, Jack," said I, if we put that word 
^ all ’ in there, he may understand that it means 
your cousin too, and if any thing will bring him 
back that will." 

The next morning when I went down town 
I sent the message, and then I felt I had done 
all a man could do under the circumstances and 
there was nothing for it now but to wait for the 
arrival of either a telegram or a letter. 

In the course of the next few days it became 
known at the club that Arthur had suddenly 
gone to England. Some one had seen his 
name in the passenger list of the boat, and an- 
other one had met him on the deck just before 
she sailed. When interrogated, I said he had been 
telegraphed for to attend to important business 
interests in London. 

When Purvie heard it he drawled out, “ I 
quite envy your friend, don’t you know. What 
an awfully jolly time he will have. A fellow 
can have so much better time in the old coun- 
try, you know." 

I went that evening to the Brainards’. Mr. 
Purvie had arrived before me ; I staid only a 
short time, and when I was going Alice came 
to the door with me and asked wistfully, “ Have 
you heard any thing? " 

“ No," said I, and hastened to add, “it isn’t 
time yet." 

“ Will he ever come back, I wonder? " 


BROKEN BONDS. 


99 


“ I am sure of it. Keep a brave heart.'' 

I went there almost every evening, but on 
each occasion I found Purvie there, and my in- 
tention of cheering her up and convincing her 
that Arthur was stanch by telling her all I 
knew of his character was frustrated ; I could 
speak unreservedly now, for she had betrayed 
her secret, but I could find no opportunity ; 
that fellow was always there, mounting guard, 
as it were, to prevent any other enemy from 
making an attack, now that the field was clear. 
When Arthur got back, this man would be put 
out of his misery, for on Arthur’s return I would 
give him a hint of her love for him and the 
affair would be speedily arranged. That cable 
message would bring him back. 

When the Gallia had been gone ten days, I 
received the anxiously expected message. I 
think my hand trembled as I tore open the 
envelope, and I was excusable, for a great deal 
hung upon the contents. I unfolded the paper 
and read : 

/ shall never come hack. 

Arthur. 

I was stupefied. My brain whirled. What 
in heaven’s name did it mean ? With a splen- 
did career before him, with a good income, with 
the only woman he had ever loved ready to 
give him her heart, this man telegraphs me he 
would never come back to his native land. Oh ! 


lOO 


BROKEN BONDS. 


he was mad, that was what it was, just simply 
stark, raving crazy ! The “ never ” of some men 
means very little, but I knew he would keep 
his word. Now what was I to do? How could 
I go to that girl and show her such a message ? 
Yet I must do it ; and what would she think of 
the constancy, the truth, the honor of a man 
who after ten days’ absence could in cold blood 
send back to the woman he had professed to 
love, such a heartless message? It was so 
unlike him, that as I sat staring at the writing I 
could hardly trust my eyes. There was some- 
where some awful mistake ; I could not believe 
him base ; I would stake every thing I held 
most dear he was not that. What a terrible 
blow it would be to her. Well, I’d better have 
it over. I put on my hat and started on the 
most disagreeable errand that had ever fallen 
to my lot. 

As I stood in the drawing room waiting for 
her, my feelings were not enviable, and when I 
heard her footstep on the stair no culprit could 
have felt more guilty. 

She smiled faintly as she came toward me, 
and the hopefully expectant tone cut me to the 
heart when she said : 

“You have news?” She looked in my face 
with those big, patient eyes, but I could not 
bear her gaze. I looked away and answered, 

“Yes, I got a telegram to-day.” 


BROKEN BONDS. 


lOI 


She saw all was not right, and exclaimed in 
a quick, concentrated way, “ Something has 
happened ! Tell me quickly what ! ” 

I glanced at her : she was standing perfectly 
still, her face as gray as ashes, her soul blazing 
in her wide open eyes. 

I said in a voice that I was conscious 
sounded like a far-off echo, “ He arrived safely 
and is well.” 

“ Thank God ! ” she murmured, and sank into 
a chair ; she drew a long breath and bright- 
ened wonderfully. “ Really, you have a re- 
markable way of telling good news. Your face 
was quite a study.” 

I could not smile ; I was wishing with all my 
soul that I could avoid wounding that gentle, 
trusting heart. I would try at any rate to 
break it to her gradually ; I would endeavor to 
put his action in the most favorable light. 

I commenced, gravely : “ I think. Miss 

Brainard, the time has come when I may, in- 
deed when I ought, to speak plainly to you. I 
am Arthur’s oldest and most intimate friend. 
We have been companions, comrades, since 
childhood, have enjoyed our little happinesses 
together, and have shared our hours of despon- 
dency ; I know him thoroughly, and I say to 
you now, upon my word of honor, I never knew 
him to do any thing unworthy a man, and if 
he has voluntarily left his country and the 


102 


BROKEN BONDS. 


woman he loves beyond all power of mine to 
tell you, the reason must be almost as irresisti- 
ble as death itself. What it is I do not know, 
and can not even guess, but he has gone ; and 
you and I may never see him again.” 

She clutched the arms of her chair, and 
looked at me wildly, and her lips moved, but I 
could not hear a word. 

I extended the message toward her. She 
stretched out her hand and took it, still with 
her eyes riveted on my face. 

“ Read it,” said I. 

She held it before her face, her hand tremb- 
ling, and looked intently at it for one moment, 
and then she uttered a cry such as will escape 
a man in mortal terror, started up, and stag- 
gering a few steps, grasped the edge of a table, 
leaning heavily against it, while with the other 
hand pressed upon her temple she looked toward 
me, but with a blank, dazed expression that 
told me she saw nothing, realized nothing, ex- 
cept that awful message. Gradually the whole 
weight of the blow seemed to make itself felt ; 
she began to think ; and then the terrible truth 
that he would never come back to her was more 
than she could bear, and she turned from me 
and burying her face in her hands, sobbed con- 
vulsively. 

When I could master my own emotion, I said: 

“ I know it must seem to you incredible that 


BROKEN BONDS. 


103 

he could care for you and still leave you, but 
I know that you were more dear to him than 
his life, that all his hopes of happiness were 
centered in you ; that he simply worshiped 
you.” 

She turned upon me a scornful face. You 
ask me to believe this after what has occurred ? 
If you are not deceived, how do you explain 
his leaving me forever?” She broke down 
again, and I — I loved him so,” she sobbed 
pitifully. 

I felt a choking sensation in my throat, and 
for the first time in my life I was so indignant 
at Arthur that if I could have reached him, he 
would have fared badly. 

Pretty soon she dried her eyes, and rising, 
gave me her hand. 

I thank you for all your kindness, but your 
loyalty to your friend makes you think better 
of him than he deserves. Nothing could ex- 
plain his going away if he had cared for me ; / 
know that so well. Come and see us after a 
little, and if — if you hear from him tell me 
about it.” 

With the love of this girl his for the asking, 
the fool had turned his back on his good for- 
tune, and fled to Europe like the meanest crim- 
inal. Had I through all these years been 
mistaken in his character ? Was his manliness 
hypocrisy, and his frankness but a cloak that 


104 


BROKEN BONDS. 


hid a craven’s heart ? No, I must be losing my 
senses; but what was- it? And I turned the 
problem over and over in my mind, but could 
think of no solution, until it flashed across me 
that such a thing could be only the work of an 
enemy ; but there was the insuperable objection 
to this, that he had none ; he was disliked by 
many, as all men are who have talents enough to 
excite envy, but there was no one who would 
work him so much harm. I would write to him : 
I would bring all my powers of reason and per- 
suasion to bear — but, no, I need not do that ; it 
would only be necessary to tell him that she 
loved him and was weeping over his absence, 
and the next steamer would bring him back. 
Fool! fool! Why had I not cabled that to 
him ? 


VIL 


T WAS sitting in my office the next day think- 
A ing over the situation more calmly, and 
wondering if Arthur would go to the length of 
hiding himself and withholding his address, and 
thus fittingly crown his folly, when Jack 
rushed in in his breezy way, and sitting on the 
arm of my best chair, demanded to know what 
was up. 

“ My dear boy, every thing is up. Our hero 
and friend has turned out to be only a maniac 
after all, and no doubt by this time is safely 
lodged in an asylum.” 

“ Say, will you tell me just what’s happened, 
without any fooling? You must have heard 
something, for Alice is about half dead and 
she was all right until you came last night. 
Go ahead, out with it.” 

“ He sent a telegram saying he would never 
come back ; that’s all.” 

‘‘The devil he did!” Jack’s face was as 
blank as if his eyebrows had been wanting. 
“ What are you going to do about it ? ” 

“ That is what I have been asking myself for 
the past twenty-four hours.” 

“ I know,” he exclaimed ; “ write to him that 


lo6 BROKEN BONDS. 

she is all broken up about him ; I guess that'll 
fetch him.” 

“ There is a slight difficulty in the way of 
your ingenious proposition.” 

He detected the facetiousness and was 
indignant. 

“ Now, look here, if you don’t like my plans, 
why don’t you invent some yourself ? ” 

“ Don’t fire up so, I didn’t mean to laugh at 
you ; but I am so disgusted with Arthur that I 
am not in the best of humors. The first thing I 
thought of was to write to him, but I do not 
know where a letter would reach him, and the 
only hope now is that he will write to me 
giving his address.” 

“ Does Miss Brainard seem to regret Arthur’s 
absence ? ” I asked, with the view of drawing 
him out and learning all I could of this most 
peculiar situation. It was not so strange that 
he had gone suddenly, for he was not apt to 
deliberate long when once the notion of doing 
any thing had occurred to him ; he was essen- 
tially a man of action, and he did not always 
count the consequences. I must know all 
the phases of the present status of affairs, and 
needed all the light that the actions or words 
of the parties immediately interested could 
throw upon the mystery ; he was beyond the 
reach of questions, but she remained, and per- 
haps there was something of which she was 


BROKEN BONDS. 


107 


cognizant, which would lead my ideas into a 
new channel, so I put that question to him. 

^ “ Well, I should say she did. He must be 
awful weak to run away from a girl like that, 
and he is the first man that ever had any 
chance with her ; she has always had dozens of 
men hanging around, too. You needn't smile. 
I’m awful young, I know, but I’ve had experi- 
ence, and my opinion is worth listening to. If 
you won’t say a word about it. I’ll tell you 
something.” I was amused at the shame- 
faced earnestness of the boy, but I was careful 
not to betray the least suspicion of a smile, 
which I knew would wound him, so I said I 
would be as uncommunicative as the sphinx. 

“Well,” he began, with his eyes on the map 
of “New York City and Vicinity” above my 
desk, “ when I told you the other day about 
Purvie’s sister, I didn’t tell you about the other 
sister, did I ? ” He blushed so red, his eyes 
looked quite pale. “ Well, now this is a secret, 
mind — say you wish you may die if you tell.” 
I subscribed to the oath, and he continued, 
hitching nervously in his chair and speaking in 
a husky stage whisper, “She’s a stunner and 
her name’s Julie, and I talked to her all the 
way to Jersey City, and don’t you say any 
thing, but when I go back to school, I’m going 
to tell aunt it begins two days before it 
really does, you know, and I’m going to stay 


lo8 BROKEN BONDS. 

in Philadelphia and take her around to the 
theater and out to Fairmount Park. How’s 
that for a scheme?” 

I thought my additional years demanded 
that I should reprove this too ambitious young 
adventurer, so I assumed my most judicial 
look and said, 

“ I did not think you would deliberately 
deceive your aunt and visit a young lady 
without her knowledge or permission.” 

He looked at me indignantly for a second, 
and then he said commiseratingly, and with the 
most jaunty air of studied impudence, 

“ Poor thing ! where did it learn to preach 
so nicely? Say, look here, you can’t play that 
on me, you know ; if you could get a pretty 
girl on a string, you wouldn’t go to see her I 
suppose, oh, no ! ” and he grinned until I 
thought his ears would permanently remain at 
the back of his head. I might as well not 
attempt the task of transforming him into the 
good boy of the religious tale, and I gave over 
trying, and asked him out to luncheon instead. 
I raised him to the seventh heaven of delight 
by suggesting that we should go to the Broad 
Street Delmonico’s and “open a small bottle.” 
At the table he said if he only could have a 
seat in “ the board ” and eat there every day, 
he would be perfectly happy. “ Even without 
the younger Miss Purvie ? ” I asked. 


BROKEN' BONDS. 


109 

“ Oh, pshaw ! ” said he, getting rosy again, 
“ let up, will you ? ” 

Some one called my name and I looked up. 
Purvie was standing at the bar opposite, and as 
he caught my eye beckoned me to join him. I 
declined, and in a moment he left the rather 
dissipated-looking man he was with, and came 
over to our table. “ Deucedly fine weather, 
isn’t it ?” Taking a chair from a neighboring 
table, he seated himself and asked if I knew 
the individual he had just parted from. “ No ? 
really you surprise me. Why, that’s Kenwith,” 
and he paused to observe how startled I would 
appear, but I was quite unmoved. “ I suppose 
I am ignorant, but I never heard of him.” 

“ Is it possible ? ” This time with impressive 
emphasis. “ Why, that’s the 'man that broke 
Lake Shore ten points in two hours.” 

Ah ! ” was all I could say ; my knowledge 
of the subject was extremely limited, and this 
was a safe remark at any rate. 

“Yes,” he continued, “ but he’s a bull now, 
one of the most rampant kind, and he is always 
dead right, don’t you know — he never loses — 
he’s got a lot of matched orders in there now, 
and he just told me the market was a safe pur- 
chase for a plucky man, for at least five points, 
and it’s bound eventually to go up with a rush 
that will make all the bears climb.” 

All this was about as intelligible to me as so 


no 


BROKEN BONDS. 


much Sanscrit, and I began to feel nervous. 
His manner indicated a desire to make me 
listen to him, and I knew the man well enough 
to be convinced he would not talk so per- 
sistently on a subject he was aware I took no 
interest in, if he had not some ulterior object. 
He leaned over and said in a confidential under- 
tone, “ I’m in there pretty heavily, and I expect 
to make a big lot of money before the end of 
the week, but I find myself in a ridiculous 
position,” and he laughed, or tried to, but there 
was not a shade of merriment in it ; it was like 
a spasmodic cackle, and it grated on my nerves. 
I remained silent, waiting for him to explain 
himself. I had a strong presentiment of what 
was coming, but I wouldn’t meet it half way ; 
I would let him do it all. 

“ The fact is,” said he, as he edged nearer to 
me, and now he was very confidential, and I 
knew I was right ; they all begin in that way ; 
“ the fact is, I have put all my available funds 
into Kenwith’s hands, and he invested it just 
the same as he has his own money, and I am 
absolutely certain to make a good thing out of 
it, only that unexpected frost out in Iowa, ten 
days ago, gave the bears an unusual oppor- 
tunity, and they have gained a temporary con- 
trol of the market ; but it’s only temporary, 
mind ; it can t last, you understand ; the reaction 
is sure to come, if not to-day, to-morrow morning 


BROKEN BONDS. 


Ill 


at the latest. But, in the meantime, it’s absurd 
you know, he says he must have more margin ; 
there is over one per cent, left, and that won’t 
be wiped out, but he declares he can not take 
the risk of a sudden drop which is just barely 
possible ; and if I don’t send him ‘ five thou.” 
by two o’clock to-day, he will have to sell me 
out. Now, it’s only a mere matter of form, 
dear old boy, and I don’t suppose you’d object 
to doing me this little favor just for a day or 
two, at the most, you know. I’ll give you two 
per cent, for the use of the money.” 

The cool impudence of this proposition, and 
the fellow’s suddenly assumed familiarity, were 
disgusting, and, for the first time, I felt utter 
contempt for him. I said coldly, “ When I 
loan money it is upon ample security ; I cer- 
tainly shall not risk any of it in Wall Street.” 

The attempt at a smile faded from his face, 
and he rose with a dejected air ; all his brisk 
debonair manner was gone in an instant. He 
walked away, saying, “ Oh ! well, just as you 
like.” 

There was a great noise about us of talking 
and clicking of glasses, and the taps of heels on 
the marble floor and the calling out of orders 
by the waiters behind the counter, as there 
always is there at half-past twelve, and the din 
prevented Jack from hearing all our conversa- 
tion ; but he had caught the drift of it, and when 


BROKEN BONDS. 


ii2 

Purvie had gone he expressed intense surprise 
that a man who was generally believed to be 
so rich should want to borrow money. “ I wish 
Alice wouldn’t let him come to the house so 
much, I never took any stock in him.” 

“ After all, Jack, he doesn’t do any harm, and 
I have an idea he amuses your cousin.” 

If I could have had a little of the future 
revealed to me then, I might have revised my 
opinion of Mr. Purvie. 

Few men can experience hope and fear, and 
satisfaction and disappointment, and the other 
emotions which constitute what we call life, 
and survive them all until the age of thirty-two, 
without having learned to be more or less 
patient when the ordering of events does not 
seem to be in accord with common justice. But 
I chafed and fretted like a disappointed child 
when day after day went by and no letter came 
from Arthur. If he had made up his mind that 
his own country could not hold him, why not 
write and state the reason ? I could not recall 
a single instance when we had endeavored to 
conceal any thing from the knowledge of each 
other, and I would not forgive this lack of 
confidence in me. If he did not choose to do 
the sensible thing, I would not worry about it 
any longer. I had already worked myself up 
about his confounded disappearance until I was 
on the verge of nervous prostration, and now, 


BROKEN BONDS. 


113 


if he did not choose to come back, I would 
worry no longer about it ; he could go to the 
devil for all I cared. I had set my hopes upon 
him, and he had turned out just the same as all 
the other promising things I had ever taken 
any interest in — they had all gone wrong after 
a while, and so, finally, had he. 

• So, with such reflections, I settled the matter 
for good and all, resolving never to return to 
it again, and I did not — forpossibly a full hour. 
I was restless ; my life was substantially the 
same ; I did the same things, went to the same 
places, saw the same people, but something 
was wanting ; it was a sense of incompleteness 
that I could not drive away, or kill, or hide 
from. 

I had not been to the Brainards’ in some days, 
and Jack had not been to see me ; so, as much 
from a sense of duty as from any anticipation 
of passing an agreeable evening, I betook my- 
self to their residence. I had no news to bring, 
but I would go and pretend I expected some 
from day to day. 

Mrs. Brainard was at home and in a few 
moments she came down : she greeted me 
pleasantly, and after a little unimportant con- 
versation, she asked if I had heard from my 
friend. 

No, he is as silent as the tomb, and I have 
given up thinking of him.'' 


BROKEN- BONDS. 


I14 

I wish I could and then she said gravely, 
and with a troubled face, “ I would give any 
thing in my power if Alice could forget him. 
I feel that I must speak frankly to you : your 
friend has done us an irreparable injury, 
whether intentionally or not I can not say ; 
but he will wreck my daughter’s life if he 
adheres to his inconsiderate determination not 
to return. I can not find the charity in my 
heart that would excuse him.” Her lip quiv- 
ered and her voice was unsteady. From my 
soul I pitied her. But what could I say? Any 
sympathy from me would fall flat ; it would be 
too cheap and mean to offer a woman whose 
home my dearest friend had darkened. I could 
only reiterate the old story of my unbounded 
faith in him and my reliance upon his honor, 
which would in the end impel him to act the 
manly part, and so on ; and I was so tired of 
saying this thing to myself over and over again, 
as I had been doing constantly, that when I 
repeated it to Mrs. Brainard it did not sound 
to me like the truth and I had a consciousness 
of trying to deceive her. I no longer believed 
it myself. She listened to it all politely, 
impassively, but I easily saw it made no 
impression. I went away with the conviction 
that my visit had been a failure. 

What with Jack’s visits to me, either at my 
office or at the club, and the evenings I spent 


BROKEN BONDS. 


^15 

at rare intervals at the Brainards’, I kept 
myself informed as to the position of affairs ; 
but there naturally was nothing of a nature to 
put a better face upon the situation, which, 
through the continued silence of the runaway, 
must necessarily remain in statu quo. But I, 
being in that frame of mind which, through 
intensity of longing, defeats the reason and 
deludes the wisest of us into the belief that 
what is impossible might occur, still cherished 
a faint, half mentally acknowledged hope, that 
by some extraordinary means they might have 
received tidings of him ; so, when I went there 
I always experienced a little of that fluttering 
expectancy that comes before the conclusion of 
a test. 

In all the conversations I had had with Alice, 
she let fall no syllable of regret that he had 
gone. After that interview in which she had 
involuntarily betrayed her secret, her manner 
had gone back to the old self-possessed, well 
poised calm, but there was a difference, and I 
thought I perceived that it existed in the 
absence of a degree of the light-hearted, indif- 
ferent gayety which had been one of her most 
charming attributes ; it was replaced by a 
shade of cynicism, just enough to suggest that 
she had found the past a little disappointing. 
This attempt at an analysis occurred to me 
because I looked for some change and observed 


ii6 


BROKEN BONDS. 


her closely. Her disposition had been even, 
but now she was inclined to moods. I under- 
stood her nature partially, and was confident 
that in the end, probably after a long time, 
her pride would cure the wound, or at least 
help her to hide it from herself, until it should 
be forgotten, but I prayed that it might not 
happen before Arthur had returned. Her great 
love for him would transcend all other emotions 
until one day the sense of injured self-esteem 
would for an instant silence the voice of the 
heart, and in that flash of realization of the 
humiliating position in which he had wantonly 
placed her, he would forever lose all chance of 
again awakening in her one throb of affection, 
and she would be as surely lost to him as if the 
grave had claimed her. 

So the days and weeks went by, the leaves 
had turned to crimson, the trees had again 
become skeletons, the snow had come, and still 
no word from Arthur. Long ago I had gone 
to his bankers’ and asked for his address, but 
they insisted they did not know it ; he had 
taken out no letter of credit from them, but he 
was well known to their agents in London and 
had drawn some money there ; probably they 
could give me the information which they were 
really extremely sorry they could not furnish. 

My letter to the people in London had elic- 
ited the reply that he had been there but once. 


BROKEN BONDS. 


I17 

had taken out a letter of credit, and had told 
them that if any letters came for him, they were 
to be sent at once to his office in New York. 

His precautions were as well taken as those 
of a defaulter whose liberty depends upon his 
safe concealment. 

Jack was thoroughly in his cousin’s confi- 
dence and he very often obligingly, though 
treacherously, betrayed it to me. She would 
give way to long and bitter crying spells, and 
when detected would turn upon him in anger, 
a thing so unusual in her, that, as he remarked 
astutely, it showed from how deep a well her 
tears had sprung. 

One cold blustering evening in January, I 
had returned to the club in the worst of 
humors, having bored myself for two mortal 
hours at a crush ” uptown, and was sitting in 
front of the fire endeavoring to thaw out my 
feet, and was deep in the old problem, varying 
my idle speculations as to his whereabouts by 
childishly wishing he would come back before 
it was too late, when chancing to glance toward 
the door of the reading room, I saw Purvie 
coming in. He looked well to-night ; he was in 
evening dress, the cut and droop of his mus- 
tache were perfect, and his face was flushed 
either with satisfaction or wine. A well-look- 
ing fellow, thought I, and at first sight, attrac- 
tive ; but he doesn’t wear ; no, I had seen a 


1 1 8 BROKEN BONDS. 

/ 

great deal of him lately and decidedly he did 
not wear well. I had finally grown to dislike 
him so intensely, that I was uneasy in his society 
and felt too annoyed by his mere presence to 
talk to him ; he must have been aware of the 
antipathy I felt for him, but for some reason 
he pretended to be oblivious to it. 

He seated himself in a big arm chair, and 
taking a paper out of his pocket began to read. 
I presume I had been sitting there about five 
minutes longer, lazily trying to determine 
whether he was a weak knave or a brainless 
fop, when he startled me by calling my name 
quickly and in a surprised tone. 

“Hello,” said I, turning toward him, “what 
is it?” 

“ Why, just look here, by Jove ! You know 
you must have known of this.” 

He rose and coming over to me handed me 
a copy of the “ Home Journal,” directing my 
attention with his finger to a little paragraph 
headed “ From our London correspondent.” 

“The engagement has been officially an- 
nounced of Miss Gladys Amelia, second daugh- 
ter of Sir Edward Jolkey, Bart., M. P., of ‘ The 
Cedars,’ Bartwell, Warwickshire, to Mr. Arthur 
Wardwell, a distinguished barrister of New 
York. The wedding is to take place within 
three weeks, as the ill health of the young 
lady’s father necessitates his going abroad for 


BROKEN BONDS. i t 9 

some months, and it is his desire that the mar- 
riage should be solemnized prior to his depart- 
ure. It is whispered that the honeymoon will 
be spent in Italy, and that the happy couple on 
their return, will make their home permanently 
in England, as the prospective groom, it is 
understood, prefers this country to his own.” 

This was the explanation ! The fool ! The 
shallow-brained hypocrite ! I had known him 
all these years and had credited him with 
every manly, chivalrous quality, and now I 
learn, as in a flash, that he is after all worse 
than weak. The fair structure of pride in him, 
built by long and close companionship, demol- 
ished by his own rash act. Never in all my 
life had my heart been so torn. Oh ! the sick- 
ening, sinking feeling, that stole all my strength 
and made my brain throb with the sudden 
conviction that never as long as we should 
live, could I call him friend again ; the over- 
whelming sense of utter disappointment was 
the bitterest trial I had ever known. No 
thought of Alice and the grief this unexpected 
news would cause her, was in my mind then. 
I did not think, I could not reason, I could 
only feel the leaden weight of the terrible loss. 
The only human creature who had stirred the 
depths of my affection was worse than dead, for 
I could trust him no more. Now, at last, the 
end was here, the worst had been told, and the 


120 


BROKEN BONDS. 


sun which had risen in such a radiant burst of 
splendid promise, had sunk forever behind the 
mists of willful failure. 

It was not that he had gone to England, 
leaving a girl who he lyingly said had all 
his heart could give ; he might have been 
easily forgiven that piece of folly, for he was 
not aware she was even interested in him ; but 
it was his fickleness, his treachery, his lack of 
manly stability and singleness of purpose that 
forced upon me the truth that henceforth we 
must be as strangers. ^ 

Perhaps the most bitter emotion it is given 
to man to feel is the sudden realization that all 
his most cherished convictions are utterly false, 
and the things which he has held all his life to 
be the most sacred truths are but baseless 
myths : it wounds his self esteem, it weakens 
or destroys his faith. 

All in an instant I was brought face to face 
with the wreck of the past, and the blank dark- 
ness of the future. He was lost to me utterly, 
and in the days that would come I must learn 
the way to live without him. 

Purvie’s voice recalled me to myself. 

“You seem to be a good bit done up by this 
news: didn’t you know any thing of it ? ” 

When I looked up he was smiling. The wrath 
that was in me would find a vent presently, 
and I might forget myself and quarrel with 


BROKEN BONDS. 


t2l 

him, I had better go ; I got up and walked out 
of the room, and putting on my coat and hat 
went out again. 

As I walked slowly along half conscious of 
the soft noiseless fall of the snow, my thoughts 
at length forsook my own irreparable loss and I 
found myself wondering how Alice would take 
it — bravely, perhaps indignantly ; and proudly, 
I was sure; would she get over it ? Yes, or she 
would compel herself to think she had. But 
what would she do ? Sit tamely down and sim- 
ply relapse into the old peaceful life she had 
known before she met him ? No, I thought not. 
Hers was the sort of nature that in an emer- 
gency like this, would seek relief in action, but 
in what direction ? Time would tell. 

This Englishwoman he was marrying could 
not be her peer in any respect, save that of 
station, and that was nothing. What had, what 
could have, made him do this thing ? I would 
never know, for he would not have the hardi- 
hood to write to me after what he had done. 

Pretty soon I looked up ; the flakes, like 
showers of glittering diamonds, were rushing 
past the electric lights, and I realized that my 
feet were wet and I was far from home. I 
hailed a cab and went back to pass a troubled, 
restless night, and awoke in the morning feel- 
ing old and worn. 


VIII. 


J ACK came to my office that afternoon. He 
was not looking himself at all ; the bright- 
ness, the sparkle, were all gone ; he wass erious, 
consequently something unusual had happened ; 
he shook hands gravely and seated himself with 
a distinct sigh ; he opened the conversation by 
inquiring impressively, 

“ Have you seen the ‘ Home Journal ’ this 
week ? ” 

Yes, I said I had seen it ; where had he run 
across it ? 

A copy had been mailed to Alice, it had 
arrived while they were at dinner; she had 
read it and had fainted. While they were try- 
ing to bring her to, his aunt told him the incli- 
nation to faint was hereditary in the family — 
she did it herself when she was young. When 
she was restored to consciousness. Jack had 
taken up the paper and the paragraph at once 
caught his eye ; it had been obligingly marked 
by some one who had sent it. This aroused 
my interest, and I asked him, “ Do you not 
take that paper regularly at the house ? ” 
“No.” 


BROKEN BONDS, 


123 


Then some one must have sent it who was 
aware of your cousin’s interest in Arthur, and 
it could only be some one to whose advantage 
it would be to have her informed of the fact 
that he had forgotten her and was about to 
marry another woman. Now, who was suffic- 
iently interested in either party to go to the 
trouble, or who knew the circumstances beside 
myself ? The only man who could by any pos- 
sibility have divined the situation of affairs was 
Purvie. But was he interested ? Yes, decidedly, 
he had had, and probably still cherished hopes 
in that quarter, and the preference shown to 
Arthur was the great obstacle to the advance- 
ment of his own affair. He was undoubtedly 
the man, and this announcement in print was a 
God-send to him. If he had mailed her the 
paper so that it came into her hands before he 
saw me at the club, all that surprise must have 
been only a clever piece of acting and he was 
deeper than I had thought him. Worse things 
might be forgiven a man who had lost his head 
over such a woman, but sending her the paper 
was not in the best of taste. Why had he tried 
the effect of the notice on me, pretending he 
had not seen it before ? I could not explain 
that. 

“What is the use of talking about it at all ? ” 
said I impatiently; “we only run up against a 
blind wall whenever we try to see our way 


1^4 


BROKEN BONDS. 


clear in thinking it over, and we are just where 
we started from. All that can be said, is that 
he has gone and we don’t want ever again to 
see him or hear from him.” 

“ What ! ” he exclaimed, sharply, “ you mean 
to say you don’t want to see him again ? Oh, 
pshaw! You’re joking.” 

He wasn’t sure whether I was indulging in 
an ill-timed jest until I told him how strongly 
I felt, but he could not seem to comprehend it. 

“ Why, what has he done? I don’t see he is 
to blame at all — he was foolish in running away, 
but the very reason he did that was because 
he thought Alice didn’t care a cent for him. 
Good Lord, he hasn’t done any thing so very 
horrible. Of course, Alice is all broken up, but 
he don’t know that, and he has a right to marry 
any one he likes. I s’pose she’ll get over it 
after a while. I’m awful sorry it didn’t come 
to any thing though, ’cause I’d like to have 
him in the family.” 

Was this boy’s view more sensible than mine ? 
From his standpoint, Arthur was not inexcus- 
ably culpable ; but to put' the most lenient con- 
struction upon the affair, he was deplorably 
wanting in constancy. What I complained of 
was that he had destroyed my illusions, and 
had rendered it impossible for me any longer 
to look up to or admire him. He who had 
been my hero, could not fill any less exalted 


BROKEN BONDS. 


place in my future, and I would prefer to re- 
member him as he had been than to try to 
place him in a new niche as an acquaintance. 
I explained this feeling to Jack and he remarked 
without an attempt at being complimentary, 
that it was all “ rot.” 

“Ah! Jack, I had thought better of you — 
you are copying Mr. Purvie — that word is one 
of his favorites.” 

He was indignant. 

“ Copy him 1 Pd as soon copy the devil. I 
hate that fellow, and now I suppose he’ll be 
hanging around more than ever; there’s no 
chance for him, though.” 

I am not so certain of that. A woman 
scorned sometimes plunges into some rash and 
unexpected action to escape the commiseration 
of her friends, as the gambler nonchalantly 
tosses his last dollar on the table, though he 
knows the loss of it means utter ruin. 

“ By the way, have you seen any thing more 
of the younger Miss Purvie?” 

No, he hadn’t, and the deuce of it was, it 
had been decided he was to enter college ; that 
was the reason he was still in the city, and he 
didn’t see how he was going to find an excuse 
for going to Philadelphia to see her — things 
always had to happen that way with him, he 
never had any luck, and it was too bad after 
he had gotten up that splendid scheme, too. 


126 


BROKEN BONDS. 


Jack was still bewailing his fate, when the 
door opened and Mr. Philo. D. Purvie walked 
in as smiling and brisk and altogether charm- 
ing as if there was not in all the world such a 
thing as trouble or a shrunken bank account or 
any thing at all unpleasant. If he could have 
dropped his accent and a little of the elegant 
veneer that could not be mistaken for any 
thing but veneer, I believe I should really have 
felt cheered by his delightful cordiality. 

“ Wouldn’t disturb you for the world, you 
know; if you and Jack are talking business, 
I’ll go into the outer office and wait. Lots of 
time, don’t you know.” 

He annoyed me by pretending to think Jack 
and I were talking business. I couldn’t bear 
his uncalled for useless insincerity, it made me 
suspicious of him. 

“No, no, sit down. Jack, you will excuse 
me for a little while, won’t you ? Come back 
at one and we’ll go out to lunch.” 

His reply was not elegant, but it was express- 
ive; he said, “You bet I’ll be on time.” 

Purvie’s overdone urbanity made me uneasy. 
I was beginning to be a little afraid of this 
plausible, oily dandy ; I wanted nothing to do 
with a man who could not express a downright 
conviction to save his life. I was certain he 
had come to borrow money — but I was mis- 
taken. 


BROKEN BONDS. 


127 


I want to see you,” he drawled, “on a pro- 
fessional matter. There’s rather a nice point of 
law involved and I want your opinion — no, 
thanks, I don’t smoke, but I enjoy the aroma 
awf’ly.” 

I knew he lied, but I lighted my cigar, never- 
theless, and resigned myself to listening to his 
story, if he had one. “ State your case.” 

“ Oh ! it isn’t my case,” he said, hurriedly 
— he seemed confused and eagerly anxious to 
get through with this interview ; and he w^ent on 
in such a precipitate way that I gathered he 
was trying to get over the worst of it, and I 
was, consequently, prepared to disbelieve him 
when he said : 

“A friend of mine has put himself in a pecu- 
liar position, and he is afraid of having trouble. 
I told him I knew a good fellow who was well 
up in all legal technicalities, quite eminent in 
his profession, don’t you know, and I would 
get his opinion for him.” 

This lame attempt at flattery, and the display 
of well kept teeth, were intended to be propiti- 
atory, but I had known him too long to be 
taken in ; he wanted something of me or he 
never would have gone to the trouble to make 
himself so confoundedly agreeable. 

“ It’s an awkward sort of thing to tell you — 
he made a fool of himself when he was two or 
three years younger ; he was out in Chicago, 


128 


BROKEN BONDS. 


living there for a time, and became intimate 
with some men in the Junior Occidental Club, 
rather a fast set, you know. One night they 
took a box at McVicker’s : it was a spectacular 
piece, lots of calcium light, and flary scenery, 
and pink tights and all that, and in the second 
act there was a sparkling grotto, and a girl 
came on who was billed as a ‘ Premiere Dan- 
seuse.’ She was not a remarkable dancer, but 
she was deucedly handsome, and my friend was 
sufficiently sober and interested to feel a desire 
to know her. He had plenty of money at that 
time, and the next day he had made the big- 
gest and most expensive basket of flowers the 
florist could get up, in the middle of it he 
placed a carefully worded note, respectfully 
asking for the honor of her acquaintance, and 
in the scene where she executed her ‘ pas seul,’ 
it was handed up to her by two ushers. Well, 
cela va sans dire that the reply was favorable ; a 
man who could purchase such mountains of 
roses in the dead of winter, could undoubtedly 
pay for a lot of jewelry . He found her not only 
very beautiful, but, strange to say, intelligent 
and well informed. She was a French woman, 
but spoke English fairly. At his earnest solici- 
tation she left the stage, and from that time to 
this, has never hinted at any desire to return 
to it, and their relations have been of the pleas- 
antest description ; but, he is thinking of mar- 


BROKEN BONDS. 


129 


rying in his own circle, and this ex-ballet-dancer 
is an obstacle ; she is of a jealous disposition 
and he is afraid she will finally make trouble. 
Now this is the point I have been getting at ; 
he has been indiscreet enough to register him- 
self and her, at various hotels, as man and wife, 
but under an assumed name, except in one 
instance. I want you to tell me if she could 
make any claim on him ? ” So, with many 
pauses and much shuffling hesitation, he told 
his story. He leaned forward and looked at 
me anxiously. 

“ Yes,” I said, “ she could make trouble, but 
money is generally a powerful argument with 
that class of women ; has your friend thought 
of that ? ” 

Yes ; but where is the use of his thinking 
about it when it is nearly all gone ? ” 

“ What does he intend to marry on, then ? ” 

“ Oh ! the girl has lots of dollars, don’t you 
know ? ” 

I said, with a touch of scorn I did not care to 
conceal, “ If that is the kind of man he is, the 
dancer is good enough for him.” 

He turned his eyes quickly toward me with 
an angry glance, but thought better of it, and 
with a shiver-inviting smile, rose and thanked 
me “ awfully” and went softly out. 

It suddenly occurred to me that he had been 
discussing his own affair ; but who was the girl 


130 


BROKEN BONDS. 


he was about to marry ? If he entertained any 
hopes of making Alice Brainard his wife, he' 
would be disagreeably undeceived. If he had 
been recounting his own experience, where was 
this woman? My prejudice against the fellow 
had made me too harsh in my conclusions — 
perhaps he had really told the truth. At any 
rate, it would be only ordinary charity to give 
him the benefit of the doubt. 

Two days afterward, a letter came from 
Arthur. He is prompt, I thought bitterly, as I 
tore open the envelope, almost as prompt with 
his bad news as the society correspondent. His 
note, it could hardly be called a letter, was brief 
and just indefinitely self-accusatory enough to 
show me how absurd had been my hope that 
perhaps even yet it might not be too late ; this 
was what he had written. 

“ Ventnor, Isle of Wight. 

“ Van, my dear old friend. — I write you 
this brief line to let you know that I am physi- 
cally well, but my mental condition I fear would 
not stand the scrutiny of a commission de lun- 
atico inquirendo. Since my abrupt departure 
from home, existence has been so great a curse to 
me that at times had I been more cowardly or 
less sane, I should have taken the short road in 
the hope of making a greater success of my life 
in some other world than I have done here, 


BROKEN BONDS. 


131 

“ My brain, my heart is so full of a despair 
that clouds all my surroundings, that heretofore, 
when I have thought of you, it has been impos- 
sible for me to write coherently ; and even now, 
I am not equal to the task of telling you why I 
took this step without a word even to you. 
But, probably, by this time you have been told 
or divined the reason and appreciate the fact 
that, under the circumstances, I could not remain 
in New York. Had I staid near longer, I 
could not have torn myself away ; I beg of you 
when you write not to mention her name, the 
regret is still too sharp and I must try not to 
think of her — I could not in honor cherish that 
remembrance, for regrets might prove danger- 
ous, and I am not as strong as I had thought. 
This is not cheerful reading for any one, but I 
know you will understand I could not just yet 
write you any thing different, and youj were 
always such a good old fellow, I am sure you 
pity me. Write me a long letter about your- 
self ; if you address me, care of Royal Hotel, 
Blackfriars Bridge, London, the letter will be 
forwarded to me. 

Arthur.” 

Pity him ! Yes, I gave him the same com- 
passion I would bestow on any weak, miserable 
creature who had gone wrong ; the long wished 
for letter had arrived and it simply confirmed 


132 


BROKEN BONDS. 


the worst I had known. Of course, he “ could 
not in honor cherish that remembrance ” now 
that he was about to marry another woman ; 
he might have spared himself the task of writ- 
ing that platitude. Precious little good it 
would do him now, ever to think of Alice 
again. How guiltily lame the phrasing of the 
whole miserable note was ! How was it possi- 
ble that one of God’s most brilliant creations 
could sink so low ? I should have thought bet- 
ter of him had he always left me in ignorance 
of his whereabouts ; his cringing bid for sym- 
pathy was just one touch beyond the finish. 


IX. 


1 WAS sitting in my favorite seat by the fire, 
trying to think of some sort of diversion that 
would serve to turn my thoughts into a more 
cheerful channel, when the name Purvie, pro- 
nounced in an audible tone, caught my attention. 
I glanced round and recognized two of my ac- 
quaintances, young men about town, earnestly 
engaged in conversation. One of them, De 
Grote, chancing to look toward me, saw my in- 
quiring glance, nodded, and said : 

“ We were just talking of a friend of yours, 
Purvie, you know. Have you heard of his hard 
luck in the street ? ” 

“No, has he been speculating again?” I 
wasn’t much interested. 

“ Again ! Why, he’s always been at it as long 
as I’ve known him, and every time he loses 
heavily, he says he has gained wisdom from ex- 
perience ; he sees the weak point in his theory, 
and will try the right system next time.” 

“ But does he never make money? ” 

“ Oh, yes, sometimes ; he must occasionally 
strike right, you know, but he takes one or two 
points profit, and five or ten points loss like the 


134 


BROKEN BONDS. 


rest of the lambs, but he is so badly shorn this 
time, I don’t think the wool will grow again ; 
he went in heavily with his friend Kenwith, 
and dropped all the money he had, and all he 
could borrow, too.” 

“You astonish me. I thought he was a rich 
man.” 

“ He was a year ago, but fighting the tiger is 
an expensive amusement, and generally cleans 
a man out in the end.” 

“ How will he get along ? Has his sister any 
money? ” 

De Grote looked surprised. “ He has no 
sister,” said he, positively. 

“ Pardon me, I am quite certain — ” 

“ No, you have been misinformed. I knew 
the family when they lived in Cincinnati ; the 
father died four years ago, and there was only 
this son left. All the money went to him, and 
he has made the fur fly ever since he got pos- 
session of the property.” 

“ I thought he had two sisters ; tell me, has 
he no relatives living in Philadelphia?” 

“ No, he has not ; he goes there often, and 
has an extensive acquaintance, but no relatives. 
I hear he is very intimate at the Brainards’ ; is it 
true ? ” 

“ I believe he is there a good deal.” 

De Grote came and sat down near me, and 
said, confidentially, “ I am sorry to hear it, for 


BROKEN BONDS. 


I3S 

the slight acquaintance I have with Miss 
Brainard, makes me believe that a marriage 
with that fellow would be a decided mesalli- 
ance ; she is much too good for him. As long 
as the money lasts he is about as fast as they 
make them. He owes money to every other 
man in the club.” 

I did not reply, and, after a pause, he said : 

“ What do you say to a little game of poker ? ” 

^*No, thanks, I don’t feel in the humor this 
evening.” 

So Purvie was ruined ; well, he would proba- 
bly now live on his wits, or the lack of them, to 
be precise. I do not know why I detested the 
fellow so heartily at that time ; I had no sub- 
stantial grounds for my dislike. It was in- 
stinctive ; I had grown to hate the sight of him. 
Those women Jack had seen with him were 
not his sisters, after all ; it was a foolish, incon- 
siderate thing to introduce creatures of that 
stamp to so young a boy — he ought to be 
ashamed of himself. I must see to it that Jack 
did not meet the girl again. 

Decidedly, I mused as I walked slowly up 
stairs to enjoy a smoke and watch the card- 
playing, decidedly the acquaintance Arthur sud- 
denly formed with this family has wrought 
pleasant results ; it has sent him to England, 
put an end to our friendship, caused me a lot 
of trouble and worry, and now there was a pros- 


136 


BROKEN BONDS. 


pect before me of more anxiety in the effort to 
keep Jack away from that woman ; I must do 
that, for I liked Jack ; I usually fought shy of 
forming new friendships, but I was irresistibly 
drawn to the boy. In one of the small rooms 
I found a poker party just beginning the game ; 
the players were De Grote, Farnstead, a horsey 
young man who was fond of recounting his ex- 
ploits in the saddle in the exciting chase after 
the anise-seed bag, and Purvie, whose presence 
I wondered at, for his financial condition hardly 
warranted the risk of a battle with an antago- 
nist like De Grote, who was known to play a 
pretty stiff game. What is the limit ? ” I 
asked. 

“A miserable little game,” Farnstead said, 
with an air of bravado, ‘‘ only five dollars ; 
when I play poker, I like to make it something 
worth while.” 

“ It is possible to lose a dollar or two, even 
with that limit,” I suggested. 

“ Won’t you come in and make it more in- 
teresting ? ” 

“ No,” said I, “ I’m going out in a few min- 
utes.” 

The light glistened on Purvie’s teeth as he 
remarked: “ It’s useless to ask him to play; 
he doesn’t believe it’s good form to invest 
money in gambling.” 

I knew to what he referred, and realized that 


BROKEN BONDS. 137 

a sarcastic allusion to my refusal to loan him 
money was intended. 

I caught his eye and replied, “ I do not 
throw my money away in wildcat speculations, 
nor do I gamble with other people’s money.” 

He got red in the face, but had not the spirit 
to resent it, and only said, quite meekly and 
with a catch in his breath that was a caricature 
of a laugh, ^‘No, of course not — of course not >; 
that is what I meant.” 

Fortune is said to be fickle, but I have 
always observed that when a man has earned 
the reputation of being unlucky, nothing he 
may turn his hand to results in profit ; and so 
it proved with him. When there were only a 
few dollars at stake he would win, and when- 
ever he held a very strong hand the others 
would be so weak that his first bet would be 
called ; but let the betting run high, and if he 
held a “ full hand ” his opponent would have 
four of a kind. 

The game was slow. I began to yawn and 
only remained because I knew of nothing bet- 
ter to do. No interesting features marked its 
dull monotony; the luck all ran in one direc- 
tion, and the evening’s amusement, unless the 
tide turned and ran back like a mill race, would 
be a ruinously expensive one for Purvie ; his 
high spirits subsided ; his flippancy gave place 
to an eager taciturnity ; he greedily watched 


138 BROKEN BONDS. 

the play of his opponents, and when neither 
caution nor bluffing availed against the contin- 
ued superiority of their cards, he lost heart, 
and where grit would have saved him, he would 
weakly refuse to risk his money. It was at this 
stage of the game that he began to drink. By 
and by the battle waxed hotter and the betting 
grew heavy ; the “ ante,” which had commenced 
at a modest half dollar, was changed to a dollar, 
and then to two, and finally, the aggravating 
persistence of his losses made Purvie desperate, 
and he inaugurated a five dollar Jack pot. 

If you know any thing about poker, you must 
be aware that such a game should be participa- 
ted in only by those who have large sums 
which they are at a loss how to dispose of, but 
prudential calculations did not enter into his 
reckless play ; he had lost heavily, and the fev- 
erish hope, common to all gamblers, that he 
could retrieve his losses by one brilliant coup^d.^ 
made him utterly indifferent to consequences* 
From time to time he told the waiter to bring 
him some brandy, until he had arrived at a 
state of drunken, nerveless stupefaction. 
He never took his eyes from the table — he saw 
nothing, knew nothing, realized nothing, except 
that there was a chance that he might win 
something back. 

Round after round was dealt and no one could 
“ open the pot,” until at last he had the neces- 


BROKEN BONDS. . 139 

sary cards and opened it for the limit. “ Hold 
on,” he said, as the others were about to de- 
posit their chips ; he was leaning on the table, 
gazing unsteadily at the pile of little round 
pieces of blue ivory, his eyes blood-shot, 
his face red and perspiring, his hair dis- 
ordered, and looking altogether a most repulsive 
object. “Hold on, I wan’ know if you think it’s 
square ' shake ’ t’have the limit same’s ante in 
er Jack pot ? ” 

“ I am willing to raise it,” said De Grote ; 
“what do you say, Farnstead ? ” 

“ It makes no difference to me, he’s the 
loser.” 

“ Well, how much do you want to make it?” 
De Grote asked, turning to Purvie. 

“ How would a quar’ of century strike 
you ? ” 

The proposition was agreed to ; they each 
placed the chips representing twenty-five dol- 
lers in the center of the table, and Purvie said, 
with a cunning leer, Ite did not want any cards, 
he would “ stand pat the others eachtookthree; 
then Purvie, with a queer look in his face and 
a loud voice, said, “ I’ll bet the limit.” His 
companions both laid down their hands. The 
winner grasped the pile of chips with one hand 
and with his cards in the other reached for the 
remainder of the pack. 

“ Wait a minute,” said De Grote, quietly. 


140 BROKEN BONDS. 

taking up the undealt cards, and keeping his 
gaze intently upon Purvie’s countenance, let’s 
see what you opened it on.” 

“ No, sir ! that isn’t necessary, you ought to’ve 
paid for a sight of ’em.” 

De Grote said, with his eye still riveted on 
the other’s face, his jaw looking very square 
and determined, the lips slightly drawn back, 

Farnstead, get up and shut the door. Now,” 
he muttered, through his clenched teeth, show 
up those cards.” 

Purvie changed from red to sickly white and 
his lips trembled, “ I don’t understand you, sir. 
This is a most remarkable proceeding ! What 
do you mean, sir ? ” 

We were all standing around the table now. 
De Grote put both hands on it and leaned over 
until he was close to the other’s face ; he said. 

I’ll tell you what I mean, I mean to see those 
cards, and I have closed the door, so that if 
there is to be a scene, there shall be no scan- 
dal ; now then, put them down, or, by God ! I’ll 
make you.” 

Purvie uttered not a word, but placed the 
cards on the edge of the table. Farnstead 
turned them over : there was not even a pair in 
the hand. 

Mr. Purvie,” said De Grote, slowly and dis- 
tinctly, “ for the honor of the club, I shall keep 
this little affair a secret, and • think I can 


BROKEN BONDS. I41 

answer for these other gentlemen, but as far as 
I am concerned, I do not wish to know you in 
the future.” 

Purvie sneaked quietly out, and as he passed 
me I thought I had never seen a meaner, more 
hang-dog look in any human being’s face ; he 
did not look up or pause or utter a word ; he 
had taken the galling chastisement silently and 
with the air of having deserved it. Farnstead’s 
ejaculation aptly described him. As the door 
closed upon him, he said, “ Contemptible 
cur ! ” 

If my memory serves me, it was the next day 
that a note came from Miss Brainard inviting 
me to a German she was to give the following 
week ; it was prettily worded, but was written 
in the abominable angular hand, the unworthy 
successor of the old round chirography which 
at least had the merit of legibility. I puzzled 
it out and decided to accept. Then I resumed 
my unpleasant task of writing to Arthur. I was 
in a dilemma, not knowing how, under the cir- 
cumstances, I ought to address him ; I could 
not commence with any cordial term such as 
“ My dear Arthur,” or Dear old man,” or even 
“ My dear old friend,” and to write “ Arthur 
Wardwell, Esq.” would be pretentiously weak. 
After I had worried myself into a fever, I had 
recourse to the comforter that never had failed 
me — a good cigar. I opened the drawer in my 


142 BROKEN BONDS, 

desk where I kept them and took up a box of 
“ Reinas.” I selected one, and then it occurred 
to me that Arthur had given them to me. 
There was quite a little story connected with 
that hundred cigars. We had been walking up 
Broadway one day in early June and had reached 
the slight bend where Grace Church stands, 
when we were stopped by a crowd of idlers and 
the morbidly curious who were following a 
policeman and his prisoner. It so happened 
that as we reached the curb the culprit passed 
directly in front of us. 

Arthur said, “ I know that man ; he was con- 
cerned in a bare-faced swindle, which first and 
last cost me two or three thousands.” Then he 
related the circumstances. 

It seems, the man, who at that time was not 
only presentable but had the outward pol- 
ish of a gentleman, had called on him with let- 
ters of introduction which afterward proved to 
be forged, and had induced him to invest in the 
stock of a grain elevator existing only in the 
imagination of the swindler. In the course of 
the negotiations it was necessary that Arthur 
should go to the fellow’s apartments to inspect 
certain plans, and he became acquainted with 
the wife, a refined woman with two beautiful, 
fair haired children ; he had been deeply 
impressed with the air of contentment 
and happiness that appeared to pervade 


BROKEN BONDS. 


U3 

the home, and decided that he must be one 
of the few fortunate ones who had hit upon 
a congenial companion. Well, the scheme 
turned out to be one of the old threadbare sort 
of swindles, and after he had paid his money 
the man disappeared and he had not seen him 
from that day to this ; and here he was appre- 
hended at last and being taken like a common 
thief to the station. He was a most miserable 
object ; his clothes, once of a fashionable cut, 
were faded and patched, the trowsers were 
frayed at the edges, and the coat was confined 
close about his neck by a pin, probably to con- 
ceal the absence of a shirt ; his hat — well his 
hat was beyond description — he was the incar- 
nation of misery. He had a wild, hunted look 
in his face, and was altogether such a man as I 
would not care to have any dealings with except 
at a respectful distance. 

Arthur elbowed his way through the crowd 
and spoke to him ; the man’s face took on a fresh 
accession of terror, but my friend whispered 
something and he looked up with parted, tremb- 
ling lips for an instant and then ejaculated a 
fervent “God bless you ! ” In a moment more 
he passed out of sight with bowed head and 
shuffling gait. “ What did you say to him ? ” I 
had inquired. 

“ I only asked for his address. I am going 
to try what you would call a Quixotic scheme ; 


144 BROKEN BONDS. 

I think there is a strain of honest feeling 
beneath his rascality, and I mean to see if I 
can’t bring it to the surface.” 

“ I advise you to attempt a more promising 
undertaking; nothing can be done with an old 
stager like that; he has ‘jail bird ’ written all 
over him.” 

He laughed, “I knew you would ridicule me; 
still I shall try.” 

“If you are in earnest. I'll bet you the best 
box of cigars that can be bought, that you will 
fail.” 

“No, but if I succeed I’ll send you one.” 

About a year and a half afterward, the man 
himself told me this story. He said that when 
Arthur had spoken to him that day when the 
law had finally secured him, he imagined it was 
to reproach him for the swindle, and he 
expected nothing less than a prosecution on 
that charge ; so, when askedto give the address 
of his family, he had refused, and then Arthur 
gave him his word of honor that he intended 
to help them while he was in prison ; and that 
was too much ; he would have taken reproaches 
and threats as a matter of course, but that a 
man, and that man the one he had wronged, 
should voluntarily offer to take care of his help- 
less wife and children, was more than he could 
bear, and for the first time in many years his 
heart had been stirred with an emotion that 


BROKEN BONDS. 


145 


broke through the callous surface and drove to 
his eyes the unaccustomed tears. 

“ That man was like an angel from heaven 
to my poor wife and children ; they were with- 
out food and there was nothing left that would 
buy enough to stop the baby's crying, and my 
wife was ill and broken down with the hard 
work she had never been accustomed to, and 
he came in one morning and talked kindly to 
them and spoke cheeringly to my boy of the 
good fortune I would meet with on the voyage 
I had taken, that he might not suspect the 
truth, and then he said I would often send 
them money 1 was earning. When he went 
away, he quietly placed in my wife’s hand an 
envelope containing what meant life and health 
and comfort to those poor starving creatures. 
Ah ! you can’t know what it is to feel starving 
hungry, sir ! I had brought them to it, and he^ 
the man who ought to have cursed me and mine, 
fed and clothed them, until after twelve long 
months, I came out of prison, thank God ! a dif- 
ferent man. Look at me ! ” he went on excitedly, 
“ I am decently clothed, I earn an honest living, 
I am no longer hunted like a wild beast, and 
what I am, and every thing I have — my home, 
my wife’s love and confidence, I owe to him ; 
and I swear to you, if it were necessary, I would 
prove my gratitude by giving up my life for 
him. 


146 


BROKEN BONDS. 


So he told his story, striving often to 
choke back his emotion, and I recognized my 
friend in every action he described ; it revealed 
nothing new in his character to me. 

The recollection led to others, and I sat 
there smoking and watching the hurrying 
masses of snow-laden clouds as they drove past 
the spire of old Trinity, and I did not write 
harshly to him as I had fully made up my mind 
to do. I hastily wrote this : 

“ Arthur : — I received your note to-day. 
Another would have had my scorn, you have 
my pity ; but you have common sense enough 
remaining to know that the old relations be- 
tween us can never be resumed. I write you 
frankly, but not as bitterly as I feel — recollec- 
tions of the old times prevent that. You say 
you suffer. I can not believe it. It was in your 
power to win the love of the woman whom you 
declared, times without number, had realized 
your ideal of feminine perfection, and of a 
sudden you cross the water and shortly find 
another whom you like so much better that 
you at once engage yourself to her. I would 
give all the gold in Wall Street to know that 
in my thoughts I have wronged you, to feel 
sure that you were the straightforward man I 
had always thought you. If by any remote 
possibility I may still be mistaken, or if it be 
not too late to undo the past, for God s sake 


BROKEN BONDS. 


147 


come back ! She is waiting, hopelessly wait- 
ing for you, as she will do all her life ; but if 
you can not come with the same heart and in 
the same mind as when I last saw you, and if 
you can not come back alone^ then I trust we 
may never meet again. 

Yours, 

“Van.” 

That was not half as strong as I should make 
it, but, try as I might, I could not coldly 
disassociate him from my past. It was strange 
that I should still imagine there might spring 
up a light in all this darkness. It is not to 
be wondered at that I was morbidly sensitive 
in regard to his actions. My grief was not 
unnatural if you consider fora moment. Here 
was I, absolutely alone in the world, suddenly 
deprived of the constant companionship of a 
strong helpful nature, and compelled to rely 
solely upon my own resources. I had trusted 
him as the faithful trust in Providence, and he 
had never failed me, and had never been found 
wanting — he was my ideal without a flaw, and 
now I could trust him, believe in him, look up 
to him, no longer. I must change all my ways, 
live a new life — alone. 


X. 


HE evening of Miss Brainard’s German 



1 found me walking up Fifth Avenue in a 
steamy fog, the effect of a sudden thaw ; the 
air was mild but seemed to have a perceptible 
taste and odor, not disagreeable, but suggestive 
to the initiated of sore thioat and rheumatism. 
The yellow gas and the cold steely electric 
light shone out dimly from the center of round 
masses of vapor slowly drifting past on the 
faint breeze. The sodden banks of mud- 
bespattered snow piled in the gutters sent up 
clouds of vapor to mingle with the smoke of 
the horses ; even from the brown stone railings 
of the stoops the moisture seemed to ooze, and 
I reflected sourly that this sort of weather 
would make the affair I was going to a perspir- 
ing torture ; I was getting to be a confirmed 
grumbler. 

When I reached the drawing room I mentally 
thanked heaven there was no crush, at any rate. 
Miss Brainard, I thought, had never looked so 
charming. I am sorry I can not describe her 
costume, but I know nothing of such mysteries; 
it was pale greenish sort of stuff with a lot of 


BROKEN BONDS. 


149 


embroidery or something of that kind. What- 
ever it was, it became her, and she was exquis- 
itely beautiful. I had not seen her since she 
had read the announcement of his engagement 
and I felt a little awkward, though I knew she 
would not allude to it. She was taking it so 
bravely, it was hard to believe that she was 
straining every fiber of her heart in the effort 
to smother the bitterest disappointment that 
ever comes to a woman. 

Of course Purvie was there, looking little 
like the cheat who had played so despicable a 
part at the club the other evening : he was as 
correct and unruffled as ever ; he was counting 
on the promise De Grote had made that the 
story of that game of poker should be kept a 
secret. I was indignant at the fellow when he 
coolly nodded and smiled at me : I cut " him, 
and resolved to give Miss Brainard a hint of his 
character at the first opportunity ; it was out- 
rageous that a shallow-brained scamp like this 
should be received by her on so friendly a foot- 
ing. I was now justified in interfering, and I 
determined to do so. 

When we went down to supper, I was proudly 
conscious of having done my duty ; I had 
struggled through several disjointed conversa- 
tions consisting of petty society gossip and 
time honored platitudes with an occasional 
attempt at a smart epigram, and if I had 


BROKEN BONDS. 


150 

amused my partners I deserved credit, for the 
effort had bored me horribly. 

As Purvie stood in front of Miss Brainard, he 
frequently bent down and spoke earnestly to 
her, but the eternal smile was lacking ; I saw 
her once or twice lower her eyes, and the color 
came into her face ; it was something of a very 
confidential nature, and his bearing was deferen- 
tial enough to be tender. I did not like it, and 
my decision to speak to her about him was 
strengthened. My interference might be 
thought presumptuous, but I would risk the 
loss of her friendship to warn her against him. 

I went up stairs for a smoke ; there was no 
one in the room and I settled myself for a few 
moments of quiet ; through the open door the 
faint strains of the music down stairs came 
floating in, the air was heavy and hot, 
the chair was deep and comfortable, and 
I was basking beneath the glare from the 
big chandelier and feeling thoroughly at ease, 
when my evil genius sent Purvie into the room. 
I struggled hastily to my feet, dropped my 
cigar, and went out in no amiable frame of 
mind. 

At the foot of the first flight of stairs was 
Miss Brainard. 

“You must have turned recluse,” she said, 
“ we have seen nothing of you for a perfect 
age.” 


BROKEN BONDS. 


151 

She was in her happiest mood, her eyes 
sparkled, and her manner was almost banter- 
ing. 

“ I have been attending religiously to my 
professional duties ; you know great men are 
always great slaves.” 

“ Then how do you account for your lack of 
leisure ? ” 

“ I fear I must be discounting the future.” 

“ Wouldn’t it be charming if you could do 
all your hard work now, so that when you reach 
your best years, you could enjoy your enor- 
mous fortune ! ” 

I infer you do not think my present age 
the best ; now I could extract from that remark 
either a compliment or the reverse : you mean 
one of two things — that I possess talents which 
will improve me, or that I am now so unsatis- 
factory that any change must be for the better.” 

“You are at liberty to put your own con- 
struction upon it. By the by, have you by 
any chance heard from your friend ? ” 

Her tone was lightly careless, but I was not 
deceived. 

“Yes, I have heard from him,” I said slowly. 

The color left her face. I waited for her, per- 
haps a little cruelly ; finally, she said in a voice 
she could not make quite steady, “ Did he say 
any thing in explanation ? ” 

“No, he asked me to pity him and said h^ 


152 


BROKEN BONDS. 


could not bear to hear any tidings of you ; he 
is, he says, forlorn and despairing.” 

She looked utterly miserable, all the assump- 
tion of light-hearted gayety had died out of 
her manner in an instant ; she turned from me 
and stood with her hand upon the banister 
looking down the stairs so long that I at length 
determined to break the awkward silence, 
though I had nothing to say to her that was 
worth the trouble. No one can feel deeper 
regret for what has happened than I, Miss 
Brainard, I had not thought him capable of 
acting toward you the part of — ” 

Pardon me,” she exclaimed, suddenly turn- 
ing round ; I was startled at the change in her 
manner, her color had returned, her voice had 
a hard uncompromising ring, her eyes flashed, 
“ I do not require any sympathy, the trifling 
flirtation is not worth an idle thought.” 

I was amazed ; I was prepared for any thing 
but this, from her ; she went on rapidly — and 
now she was smiling. 

“ Of course, as all girls will do occasionally, 
I was foolish enough to encourage him, and we 
both amused ourselves. I will go so far as to 
admit that I thought at one time he was quite 
the nicest man I had met. Wasn’t it absurd?” 
and she burst into an unpleasant laugh. 

Do you mean to tell me you do not care 
for him now? ” 


BROKEM BONDS. 


15^ 

“ Of course not, I scarcely ever think of 
him.” 

“ I don’t believe you,” said I deliberately. 
She drew herself up proudly. “ I am not ac- 
customed — but there, I forgive your rudeness, 
you are very greatly mistaken and — I will 
prove it to you.” 

I know you love him ; you can not convince 
me to the contrary,” I exclaimed with unreas- 
onable choler. 

Do you know that you insult me by think- 
ing I still care for a man who has forgotten me 
all — ” she checked herself abruptly and walked 
rapidly away from me down the hall. 

She did care for him probably more than 
ever — she was capable of any rash folly with 
such a temper roused. Pshaw ! it would all 
overflow and disappear in a flood of tears. I 
went down stairs, the German was resumed 
shortly, and I had forgotten the scene and was 
leaning against the wall, staring vacantly at a 
couple of family portraits opposite, and won- 
dering why the old fellow with a red face hadn’t 
died of apoplexy years before his picture was 
painted, when some one touched me on the 
shoulder ; it was Purvie, on his arm was Miss 
Brainard ; he looked me straight in the face and 
said, Permit me to introduce my future wife.” 

I was looking at her intently. “ Is this a 
jest ? ” 


154 


BROKEN BONDS. 


She was whiter than the lace about her 
throat. “ No ! Are you convinced now?" 

I dared not trust myself to reply. I turned 
on my heel, went up for my hat and coat, and 
left the house. 

My memory tells me it was a week after the 
night I left the Brainards in a rage, that Jack 
came to see me ; he was scarcely in the room 
when he asked, “Well, have you heard the 
news ? " 

“ I hope it is good news this time at any 
rate." 

“Well, it isn’t, by a long shot. Alice is 
going to marry that Purvie, and I shall have 
to acknowledge him as my cousin." 

“ Oh ! yes, she told me of it a few moments 
after she had consented to make the sacrifice ; 
she seemed quite proud of her conquest ! " 

“ She may say what she likes, she isn’t. I 
don’t believe she cares for him at all ; she wpn’t 
see him unless aunt is in the room ; that makes 
Purvie wild ! " 

Jack grew quite cheerful over the recollec- 
tion. 

“ So the accepted suitor does not appreciate 
the chaperonage ; does he raise objections ? " 

“ No, but it seems to take all the talk out of 
him ; his misery will soon be over though ; but 
I guess you’d say it will soon commence, you’re 
so down on marriage." 


Broken bonds. 


155 


What do you mean ? ” 

“ Why, didn’t you know? They’re going to 
be married in two weeks.” 

“The devil!” 

“That’s what I said. I was more surprised 
than you are too, because I’ve known her 
longer, and I didn’t think she was such a fool.” 

I paced up and down my office, smoking and 
thinking. 

“Jack, this must be stopped.” 

“ That’s why I came to see you, but how 
are you going to stop it ? ” 

“ I’ll see your aunt and tell her what I know 
about the man.” 

“ That’s no good,” he remarked, sententiously. 
“ I gave her my opinion of him, and told her 
what other people said about his being a gam- 
bler and fast, and I asked her if she didn’t 
knozv he was an idiot ; but she said it was prej- 
udice, and if there were no actual proofs of 
something wrong he had done, she wouldn’t 
interfere with Alice’s choice ; the fact he was 
poor made no difference, he would not have 
the control of Alice’s money. Alice is ter- 
ribly down on you for something.” 

“ How do you know that ? ” 

“ I think that ‘ cad ’ must have been telling her 
a lot of lies about you, because to-day at lunch 
when I said it was strange you hadn’t beeni 
there lately, she said she hoped you would 


BROKEN BOND^. 


156 

never come again, and that from what she had 
heard the last two or three days, she was sorry 
she had taken that ‘ man and his friend ’ on 
trust, meaning you and Arthur, you know.” 

I was nonplussed. 

“ It seems to me we have wandered into a 
blind alley and reached the wall. Now, Jack, 
light that ‘ ambassador ’ and let’s examine the 
situation carefully. In the first place, direct 
appeal to the mother is out of the question, for 
we have not the necessary proofs ; in the 
second place, any thing I might say to your 
cousin would only exasperate her the more ; 
now what is there left to do ? ” 

Jack’s face was a blank; I sat down, and 
leaning my head on my hands, puffed vigor- 
ously and called upon my unresponding brain 
for an inspiration. It was no use, I turned 
around and said, “ I can’t see daylight ahead, 
but I am determined to unearth some fact that 
will seem to your aunt weighty enough to jus- 
tify her interference. In the meantime, sup- 
pose we go out for a bite.” 

I was putting on my coat when a thought 
flashed across my mind. Has Purvie men- 
tioned the existence of his sisters? ” 

By George, that’s funny, I don’t believe 
Alice knows he has any.” 

. “Will you make a point of asking her? and 
if she has never heard of them, will you ask 


BROKEN BONDS. 157 

her, not bringing me in, mind, to inquire of 
Purvie where they are living ? " 

Jack readily agreed, but wanted to know my 
reasons. I would not tell him of the suspicion 
that was slowly taking form and developing 
into almost a moral certainty. 

I made him repeat to me the story of his 
ride from Philadelphia, with his recollection of 
the appearance and conversation of the women 
with the French accent, and by good luck he 
had their address, which the younger girl had 
surreptitiously handed him. I took a memo- 
randum of it ; it was, “ Number 2398 South 
Brier Street, Philadelphia.” 

Jack would report to me the next day. In 
the meantime, I gave myself up wholly to the 
logical solution of the puzzle, and sought to 
arrange the facts and suspicions in proper 
sequence, that I might arrive at some definite 
conviction. 

I started with the fixed idea of rescuing the 
girl in whom I felt the tender interest a brother 
might have had, from a life of misery and 
regrets with a man who was neither mentally 
nor morally suited for the companionship of 
such a delicately attuned nature. To Arthur, 
she must have given the whole strength of her 
heart's inmost passion, and of the wreck he had 
created, there remained her pride, and in that 
was concentrated a strength which, now that 


BROKEN BONDS. 


158 

her love had gone, found terrible expression in 
this unreasoning welcome of the first refuge 
from the torturing memories of the recent 
past. 

Now, what had I to build conclusions 
upon ? 

Purvie had not spoken of his sisters to Alice 
— that was singular, to say the least. 

The woman in the car was French, so was 
the ballet-dancer Purvie had said might make 
trouble, if his friend married. This friend was 
ruined — so, according to common report, was 
Purvie. When he stated that case to me, had 
I been too lenient in my judgment ? Was it 
his own case ? At the time I had doubted it, 
but did not the better knowledge of his char- 
acter I acquired that night at the club, justify 
me in thinking now that he would hesitate at 
nothing to recoup his losses? The positive 
assertion of De Grote, that he had no near 
relations, had almost convinced me the women 
were not his sisters; I had felt little interest in 
the matter at the time, but now there was 
scarcely room for doubt. Jack’s report could 
not fail to throw some light upon the situation, 
and I must wait as patiently as I could for its 
arrival. 

When I went into the dining room that 
evening, De Grote was just sitting down to 
dinner. I joined him and he opened the con- 


BROKEN BONDS. 


159 


versation by asking if I had heard the latest 
on dit. 

What do you refer to ? ” 

“ I just saw Albery, who says Purvie asked 
him to congratulate him ; that he was shortly 
to be married to Miss Brainard. Pity she is 
going to throw herself away ! ” 

“ Yes, I knew of that and I agree with you ; 
but I think, in regard to women, the French 
proverb, that the unexpected always happens, 
is applicable invariably.” 

“ Yes, and the best of them make the worst 
mistakes in choosing a husband ; I didn’t think 
she was the sort to be taken in, though.” 

“ You told me some time ago that you were 
positive Purvie had no sisters ; are you abso- 
lutely certain of that ? ” 

I am positive. Why do you ask ; has he 
told you he had ? ” 

No. I heard indirectly that he had two, 
who live in Philadelphia.” 

“ Wouldn’t it be strange for him to live here 
and his sisters in another city? ” 

That was so, it was hardly supposable and 
the suggestion carried me a step further on the 
road to certainty. 

Has he been successful in any of his ven- 
tures lately ? ” 

“ I should imagine not, from the remarks of 
some men who are delighted at the idea of his 


4 


l6o " BROKEN BONDS. 

marriage, hoping the wife’s money will liqui- 
date their claims. I have a few of his I. O. U.’s. 
I’d sell at a horrible sacrifice.” 

I glanced up and saw Jack ; he was looking 
for some one, evidently me, for he came over 
and sat down at our table ; he refused my invi- 
tation to have some dinner, saying he had just 
dined at home. He did not talk much — appar- 
ently had something on his mind, probably he 
feared to speak before De Grote. I helped 
him out by asking if he had delivered my mes- 
sage. 

“ Yes, but the part)^ won’t see the other one 
to-night ; he says he has an important engage- 
ment in Philadelphia; pity it isn’t his own 
funeral ! ” 

If my suspicions were well founded, no more 
despicable scoundrel lived than this man ; how 
utterly devoid of all sense of decency or honor 
he must be, to keep an appointment with this 
woman on the eve of his marriage to Alice. It 
was scarcely probable he would do so. 

I called for an evening paper, and glancing at 
the column of ‘‘Amusements,” said I felt like 
going to see something that would drive away 
an incipient attack of the blues. “ What do you 
suggest, De Grote?” 

“ I don’t know, what do you find there ? ” 

“ Here’s the ‘ Beggar Student, ’ that I’ve 
seen ; ‘ Lucia ’ at the Metropolitan, ‘ Sonnam- 


f 


BROKEN BONDS. 


i6i 


bula’ at the Academy, neither of them espe- 
cially cheering. Well, the only thing I see is 
Kiralfy’s combination of Calcium and Costumes 
at the Star ; they’re going to Philadelphia, and 
this is our last chance. What do you say to 
that ? ” 

“ Those things are rather stupid, but we need 
not sit it out ; we can stand two acts of it, I 
suppose.” 

“ That wretched play upon words ought to 
be followed by an antidote, and we’ll go ; what 
do you say. Jack ? ” 

We lighted cigarettes, and having crowded 
into one of the yellow and black cabs, vulgarly 
known as canaries,” jogged down the avenue. 
Pushing my way through the crowd in the outer 
lobby of the theater, I succeeded in approach- 
ing near enough to the box office window to 
perceive a square piece of paste-board, bearing 
the inscription beloved of managers, “ Stand- 
ing room only.” 

I retraced my steps and sought out one of 
those individuals who are so useful in such an 
extremity, the much anathematized “ specula- 
tor ; ” this one, through some unaccountable 
re-arrangement of his conscience, charged us 
only a modest fifty per cent, advance on the 
usual price, and we felt that life in the Metropo- 
lis was growing less gloomy. Our seats were 
three rows from the stage in the center of the 


i 62 


BROKEN BONDS. 


house, and if the blare of the trombones and the 
reverberating thud of the bass drum were dis- 
tracting, the point of view was excellent. 

As is usually the case in pieces of this char- 
acter, the first scene was dull and served to 
develop the very slender plot. It was designedly 
tame, that the glories of the brighter parts 
might shine with added luster by contrast. 

I glanced round to see what sort of a house 
it was, and if I could recognize any acquaint- 
ances, and my eyes rested upon Purvie seated 
a few rows back of us. 

I leaned over in front of De Grote and whis- 
pered to Jack, “ Purvie is here.” 

“ What ! Where ? So he is, that’s strange !” 

What did it mean ? I had been of late so 
constantly engaged in trying to find motives for 
strange actions, that I was impatiently weary 
of the effort and turned to the stage for relief 
from my thoughts. 

The curse had been pronounced and now the 

ballet infernal ” was about to begin ; there 
were the customary antics of the coryphees which 
were intended to represent dancing, and after 
they had subsided and had taken their posi- 
tions on either side of the stage, leaving a broad 
lane down the middle, one of the premieres ” 
made her appearance at the back just in front 
of the line of halberd-bearing, much be-tinned 
soldiers, and stood with outstretched arms and 


BROKEN BONDS. 163 

poised toe waiting for the chord which would 
bring her pirouetting toward the footlights. 

Though I was looking straight before me, I 
was conscious of a quick movement to my right 
and knew that Jack had suddenly straightened 
himself for a better view. She was a fair dancer, 
and making allowances for paint, was good 
looking, not to say pretty ; after her came a 
woman who danced better, but was so ugly I 
was led to wonder why she did not wear a 
mask. We went out for a smoke after the first 
act. Jack was excited about something — he 
pushed ahead so fast we had difficulty in keep- 
ing him in sight ; when we were outside he took 
me by the arm and leading me a little apart, 
said in a low tone, “ Do you know who that 
is?” 

He was so nervous he could not stand 
still. 

“ Which one do you mean? ” said I, looking 
round. 

Not here, that woman on the stage ! ” 

“ That is very definite ; now, at the least calcu- 
lation, there must have been as many as — ” 

“ I mean the first one that danced alone — 
that’s Purvie’s sister.” 

I looked at him in blank amazement a second, 
and then it dawned upon me that all my sur- 
mises had been correct, and at last here was 
3omething tangible. 


164 


BROKEN BONDS. 


“ Have you a programme ? What is her 
name ? ” 

She was billed as Mile. Fleurette Troisfois, 
“ The Celebrated Premiere Danseuse, who has 
been secured positively for two weeks only.” 
It told me nothing. The ridiculous name was 
undoubtedly assumed. To set at rest all doubts, 
I determined to keep in sight of Purvie during 
the remainder of the evening, and if he joined 
her I would follow them. If I discovered 
where she lived, I would seek an interview the 
next morning. These indefinite plans shaped 
themselves quickly in my mind, and the prob- 
ability that at length I would no longer be 
compelled to grope in the dark among unsat- 
isfactory surmises and doubts buoyed me 
up to a sense of eagerness to begin the investi- 
gation. 

Admonishing Jack not on any account to 
say a word to a living soul until I had all the 
proofs in my hand, I left them, making some 
plausible excuse to De Grote, and went back 
to the theater. I took up my position against 
the wall at the back, under the gallery, and a 
little to the left, where the light is usually so 
dim that for a person seated in the orchestra 
chairs it is difficult to distinguish the faces of 
the men who on crowded nights like this stand 
thickly behind the last row of seats. 

Purvie was no longer there, and I fell to 


BROKEN BONDS. 


165 

torturing myself again, with the idea that he 
might not come back. I was upon the point 
of cursing my ill-luck, when just as the curtain 
went up he sauntered down the aisle. Of the 
remaining acts of the play I have not the 
faintest recollection ; my eyes were riveted on 
one man, except during short intervals when 
the concentrated earnestness of my gaze pro- 
duced giddiness, and I was forced to look away. 
He did not get up during the three other 
entractes., and for over two long hours I stood 
there on watch. If time were reckoned by 
nervous anxiety, my espionage had lasted weeks 
instead of hours. I hailed the final curtain 
wdth a sigh of relief, and prepared to dog his 
footsteps with redoubled vigilance. I kept in 
the shadow until he had passed out, and then 
followed him at as great a distance as I dared 
put between us. He walked slowly up to the 
corner of Fourteenth Street, stopped to light a 
cigarette, and turned down toward Fourth 
Avenue, stopping in front of a cab. He con- 
versed with the driver a moment, and as the 
man was turning the vehicle round I heard him 
say stage door.” He went into the bar-room 
of a hotel, and I hastened after the cab, and 
posted myself on the side of Fourth Avenue, 
opposite the stage entrance of the theater. 
The people who had been fairies and princes 
were coming by twos and threes through the 


i66 


BROKEN BONDS. 


swinging door, and as the bitter air of the street 
blew full upon them, they would convulsively 
give themselves a little shake, and drawing 
their old shawls or dilapidated coats more 
closely about them, would clutch the satchel 
or bundle with a firmer grasp and hurry off. 

Pretty soon Purvie made his appearance 
from round the corner, and I pulled my hat 
further over my eyes, crowding closer under 
the doorway. He got into the cab, keeping the 
door open. At last a woman in a long fur 
dolman came out ; he assisted her in, and the 
vehicle started toward Union Square. Then, 
for the first time, it occurred to me that it 
would be impossible to follow them on foot. 
I rushed wildly after them, but there was not 
a single conveyance of any description to be 
seen, except the one I was following, and that 
had already gained half a block. As I reached 
Broadway, still running, I saw a cab coming 
up ; I hailed the driver, jumped in quickly, and 
telling him to keep in sight of the one I pointed 
out, sank back upon the cushions and breathed 
more freely. The pursuit took us down to 
Fifth Avenue, up to Twenty-eighth Street, and 
down that street nearly to N inth Avenue. They 
stopped before a large house of respectable ap- 
pearance ; the driver received his fare and 
drove off, and Purvie and his companion went 
in. When the door had closed upon them, I 


BROKEN BONDS. 


167 


got out, made a memorandum of the number, 
and drove back to the club. What had I 
gained ? Simply the moral certainty that the 
story Purvie had told me was an account of his 
own position. I could, no doubt, go to Mrs. 
Brainard, and, with the assistance of Jack’s 
corroborative evidence, make out a strong 
enough case to justify her in interfering ; but 
there was a chance that she would require ab- 
solute, irrefutable proof, and this I could not 
yet furnish. But I was on the right road, and 
if my interview of the next day were skillfully 
conducted, my case would be complete. 

I was informed there was a gentleman waiting 
for me up stairs. I went up wondering who 
wanted to see me badly enough to select such 
an hour. It was Bullerton of the C. E. & X. 
Railroad, to which company I had the good 
fortune to be counsel. The details of the con- 
versation are not relevant to the story, but the 
gist of the whole matter was that I must take 
the very first train in the morning for Baltimore, 
examine a lot of witnesses, and go over some 
appallingly voluminous accounts. This pro- 
gramme agreed but badly with my plans, but 
there was nothing for it but to pack up and 
start. The affair might occupy five days, or I 
might not get through in two weeks. Resolving, 
that however pressing my duties might be, I 
would steal time enough from them for an in- 


i68 


BROKEN BONDS. 


terview with Mile. Troisfois in Philadelphia, 
and then, if I could not come on, to write to 
Mrs. Brainard, I went to bed and made a 
more or less successful failure of trying to get 
a few hours sleep. 


XL 


T he next afternoon as soon as I arrived at 
my hotel in Baltimore, I wrote to Jack, 
omitting all particulars, but cautioning him to 
let no word of what he knew escape him ; to 
leave every thing in my hands. I assured him 
I was on the right track and would act in time 
to prevent the marriage. 

The task I had undertaken widened and 
stretched out until it seemed as if the more 
I accomplished, the more remained to be done. 
The days slipped by rapidly, the unremitting 
work sending them back into the past, with a 
swiftness strangely at variance with the lagging 
hours when I have little to do save sit in my 
office waiting for possible clients. The twenty- 
seventh of January was here, the wedding was 
to be celebrated February first, and any steps 
I might take must be commenced at once ; I 
had arrived now at the most important stage of 
my mission in the railroad case, and if I must 
go away at all, as I was determined to do at 
any cost, it could not be for more than one day. 
I took the train that evening for Philadelphia, 
arriving at midnight. 


170 


BROKEN BONDS. 


I matured my plan of action while in the 
cars. 

Actresses are not early risers, and I would 
defer my visit until between eleven and twelve 
o’clock, when I would be most likely to find 
her at home ; in the meantime I would send 
Jack a telegram asking him to take the next 
train and meet me at the Continental, for my 
intention was to send back by him all the facts 
in my possession in the form of a letter to his 
aunt, being unwilling to entrust the missive to the 
mails, and desiring too, to put Jack abreast of 
my knowledge to the smallest particular; his 
intercession might prove the additional weight 
which would turn the balance in favor of her 
interference in case my interview should be pro- 
ductive of no good results. 

I had difficulty in restraining my impatience 
the next morning, and a little before the hour 
I had settled upon I took a carriage, and started 
upon the errand to which I looked forward 
with a little hope, and a great many misgivings : 
the telegram had been sent to Jack, I knew if 
he could he would come, and after my call, no 
matter what the result, I would at once write 
the letter and that night, or early next morning 
at the furthest, we could both leave, he for 
the North, and I for Baltimore. 

I had thought of every thing except what I 
should say when face to face with this woman ; 


JBROKEN BONDS. 


171 

I did not know her name even ; the chances 
were strongly against her “ Nom du Theatre ” 
being her real one. I was puzzled how I should 
inquire for her. Just before we arrived at our 
destination I hit upon the expedient of em- 
ploying a little treachery. I would say that I 
had a message from Mr. Purvie for the French 
lady ; this was not brilliant, but perhaps it 
would do. 

We had gone, I should imagine, about a mile, 
and were passing through a respectable look- 
ing street lined on both sides with the blank 
red brick and white marble houses whose glar- 
ing paleness gives the impression of a man with 
colorless eyes, and no hair, and whose monot- 
onous uniformity makes that city the most 
uninteresting, perhaps, in the world, when we 
drew up before a house mid-way down the 
block. With a nervousness I could not entirely 
subdue I rang the bell, 'and in answer to the 
swollen-eyed, frowsy servant, who opened the 
door, said I had a message from Mr. Purvie 
for the French lady who lived there;” she 
asked me if I would please to walk into the par- 
lor and she would tell her. I went into a 
musty room where the odor of cooking was 
faintly perceptible, and sat down on an old 
scroll-back, hair-covered chair which creaked 
warningly, as if in protest against being 
expected to endure so much longer than the 


i 7 2 BROKEN BONDS. 

many generations that had sat upon it, and 
gazed around in mild curiosity. 

Every thing there had a faded, much worn 
air of genteel poverty, from the thread-bare 
carpet to the cracked veneering of the sofa, and 
the substitution of a covered brick for the nor- 
mal caster; the walls were sparsely decorated 
with three or four old-fashioned portraits of 
stiff-necked people, in shining oval frames; 
over the mantle was a cheerful group of fig- 
ures surrounding a grave shaded by the most 
doleful of weeping willows, the whole thing 
done in human hair and framed in somber 
black ; in a vase were the remains of a bunch 
of wax flowers, and on the center table was the 
gilt-edged family Bible with a marker to indi- 
cate the location of the family record, and on 
the other end, carefully laid at right angles, 
was the “ Young Ladies’ Floral Companion,” for 
the year 1856. In front of the closed doors 
at the lower end of the room was a square sort 
of ottoman with a padded top, evidently home- 
made, and probably a transformed soap box; 
a dim church-like semi-darkness charitably 
strove to hide the whole painfully rigid place. 
My nerves were strung to so tight a tension I 
believe I could have counted the threads where 
the nap was worn from the carpet. Presently 
the door opened. I started and turned round 
expecting to see Mile. Troisfois. It was the 


BROKEI^ BONDS. 


173 


servant, who requested me to walk up stairs. 
I followed her up a long steep flight, across a 
landing, and then up three or four more steps and 
stopped at a door a few feet further on. In 
answer to her knock a musical voice said 
“Come.” The door was opened, and the first 
glimpse I caught of the room and its occupant 
fairly took my breath away ; I suppose a good 
part of my surprise was owing to the sudden 
transition from the gloom of that horrible barn- 
like “ parlor ” down stairs to the warmth and 
brightness of this luxurious boudoir ; comfort 
and good taste were stamped upon every thing, 
the very air seemed to breathe an invitation to 
languorous contentment ; near the blazing soft 
coal fire were two immense low chairs, so cor- 
pulent they looked unable to stand upright, 
and upon every available article of furniture 
and, almost entirely covering the carpet,, were 
robes of fur ; the walls were hung with artistic 
pictures tastefully framed, and in one corner 
was a piano, while books and bric-a-brac com- 
pletely filled up the rest of the room ; on a 
small table in the corner stood a big basket of 
flowers, probably a trophy from last night’s 
performance. 

Standing just at the back of one of the chairs 
in front of the fire was a woman whose age I 
mentally decided was about twenty-six in this 
light, and perhaps twenty behind the glare of 


i74 


BROKEN BOND^. 


the foot lights. My first impression was that 
she was unequivocally handsome ; she was dark, 
with an olive skin, and jet black eyes ; her 
figure was graceful and well proportioned, and 
the only thing I could find fault with — and 
that I only discovered after we had entered 
into conversation — was the existence of an 
almost imperceptible fringe of fine black hair 
upon her upper lip. She was entirely self- 
possessed, and easily courteous in her manner 
as she slightly inclined her head, and inquired 
in a pleasantly modulated voice : 

“To what am I indebted for the honor of 
this visit?” 

“ I have to ask your pardon for having 
intruded upon you under false pretenses ; you 
have it in your power to render me a great 
service. I do not bring a message from Mr. 
Purvie, but being aware you are acquainted 
with him, and not knowing your name, I took 
this unusual means of obtaining an interview 
with you.” 

“ You say I can render you a service ; let us 
see if it excuses your action.” 

She spoke with a slight accent which, how- 
ever, did not soften the hard, business-like tone, 
and I realized she would stand no trifling. 

“ I should not care to have what I am about 
to say overheard by a third person; are we 
alone? ” 


BROKEN BONDS. 1 75 

She hesitated — I do not see — " 

“ It concerns Mr. Purvie and yourself wholly.” 

“Julie,” she called, and some one from the 
inner room replied ; she asked her to close the 
door, then turning to me she gracefully waved me 
to a chair, and seated herself in the one oppo- 
site. 

By way of opening the battle I handed her 
my card : “ That is my name,” I said, “ I know 

Mr. Purvie quite well ; we are members of the 
same club.” 

“ I have heard him speak of you,” she 
remarked, quietly. 

I would throw out a little skirmish line : 

“ He has spoken to me of you, also.” 

That shot told ; for a moment the enemy was 
demoralized, but she rallied quickly. 

“ What did he say of me? ” 

“ He told me all the circumstances of your 
acquaintance, and of your present position.” 

She started forward and looked at me with 
contracted brow and searching gaze for an 
instant, “ Excuse me, monsieur,” she said, 
excitedly, “he could not be so bete : I can not 
believe you.” 

“ He told me part, and the rest I have found 
out for myself.” 

She was calm again. 

“ Will you be so good to tell me why you 
come here ; pardon, my time is much taken up.” 


176 BROICEN BONDS. 

“ In the first place, I desire you to under- 
stand that I know every thing concerning your 
relations with Mr. Purvie ; that will make 
what I must tell you easier for me to say and 
for you to hear.” 

“My relations with Mr. Purvie! Ma foil 
They are the same exactly as my relations with 
others who are my good friends ; they come 
sometimes to call on me ; I receive them as I 
do you ; voilh tout'' 

“ I am pained to be obliged to repeat what 
Mr. Purvie told me ; he said he had first seen 
you at McVicker’s in Chicago, had been infat- 
uated with you, and had succeeded in making 
your acquaintance ; that ever since that time 
he has provided for you.” 

She was perfectly cool, but a trifle paler, and 
there was a set ugly look about the mouth. 

“ Well, monsieur, what have you to do with 
all this ? ” 

“ I am coming to that, but I want to ask you 
first if you know he is utterly ruined.” 

“ Perfectly.” 

I was making no headway at all ; this woman 
appeared to be impenetrable ; I must explode 
the bomb which would give her the coup de 
grace ; I had reserved it for the last ; it would 
be a cruel shock, but she seemed to be prepared 
for every thing else. I kept my eyes steadily 
upon her and said distinctly, “ Did you know 


BROKEN BONDS. 


177 


that in two days he is to be married ? ” I 
confidently expected she would swoon, or go 
into hysterics, or at least rave at him, and swear 
to denounce him, but she sat as if listening to 
the most commonplace remark, and smiled — 
actually smiled. 

“ Is this what you came to tell me ? 

“ Do you mean to say you do not care to 
prevent this marriage of the man you love with 
another woman ? ’’ 

There — this interview had better end. I 
thank you for coming — you have amused me, 
but I have engagements, you know — ” 

Her sardonic coolness was driving out all my 
calculating self-possession. 

In a voice I tried to make steady, I said : 
*‘Will you do nothing to prevent this pure, 
young girl from uniting herself to the aban- 
doned profligate you know him to be ? ” 

She smiled, and the evil look lent venom to 
the words. 

I would not lift my finger — so — to save 
her.” 

I had failed utterly, ignominiously ; her 
devilish insensibility drove me mad. I went 
close to her, and said : “You shall prevent this 
crime, do you understand ? you shall be forced 
to stop it. By Heaven ! I will drag you into 
court, and compel you to claim him as your 
husband — an abandoned wretch like you shall 


178 


BROKEN BONDS. 


not ruin the life of that angel. Do you hear 
me?” 

She sprang from her chair, and stood panting 
with her eyes dilated and rolling slowly around 
as if in search of something ; if at that moment 
she could have found a weapon, I believe she 
would have killed me ; she clutched the back 
of the chair, and lowering her head looked out 
from underneath her scowling brows like a 
tigress about to spring. Her breath came 
short and hard, and she hissed as if she wished 
each word might carry an actual sting. 

^‘You have insulted me, you coward ! If I 
were a man I would kill you. You are in love 
with that girl, you are impudent ; you come to 
me and ask me to help you to get her back, I 
tell you now I hope he will drag her down to 
hell with him.” 

Again that horrible smile that made her face 
look like a grinning skull. I could bear no 
more, the fiendishness of this woman made my 
flesh creep ; I was turning to go when she 
broke into a convulsive, demoniac laugh, shrill 
and high, and awful to hear ; I stopped spell- 
bound ; I could not have moved for the wealth 
of the universe. Her voice was now a sup- 
pressed shriek : “ So monsieur does not like the 
truth maiSy attendeZy I am not through with 
you yet. You do not know who told him to 
marry this fool of a girl ! why I did, yes /, // 


BROKEN BONDS. 


179 


What would you have? He had lost all his 
money, we were poor; when I was sure she 
had a fortune I said to him, ^ If I let you marry 
her will you promise to give me all the money 
I want and come to see me as often as I like 
to write for you ? ’ and that is the understand- 
ing and I have it in writing — you can not pre- 
vent the marriage, and you shall not. I will 
take care of that, and I will get every sou of 
the money, and you, you — ,” again that weird 
laugh rang out. “You love this girl and you 
can not help yourself, you must live and see 
her suffer every day, every minute, and you 
know I have done it, /, whom you have insulted, 
you poltroon, sapristi ! you low — " I had 
rushed from the room, and I could hear her 
imprecations until I had shut the front door 
behind me. 

Did you ever, when a child, dream that you 
were being pursued by some terrible monster 
with blazing eyes and gnashing teeth, whose 
upraised arm held a gleaming knife ready to 
strike you dead, and you ran, oh ! so hard, and 
were straining every muscle, but your feet were 
weighed down by some unaccountable force, 
and you could only shuffle slowly along. The 
door before you that would shut him out and 
save you was locked, and how real the agony 
of suspense as you fumbled with the key, 
knowing that the chances of escape were all 


l8o BROKEN BONDS. 

against you ! you shake the door with despair- 
ing energy, there is no help near, and in a 
moment more that cruel grasp will be upon 
you and the knife will do its sickening work. 
Oh, God ! must it all end here ? and you writhe 
and tug, and, as in your dreadful torture you 
feel the panting breath of your murderer upon 
your neck, you awake with a great thankful- 
ness in your heart that it was only a dream 
after all ; but at first the horror of the thing is 
still upon you, and perhaps for many days a 
lingering sense of abject fright remains. Well, 
I am not ashamed to say that I experienced a 
degree of that sensation as I came down those 
stairs, and I was as grateful to find myself once 
more in the quiet street as if my interview had 
been with a veritable demon. 

I had suffered a distinct defeat, had been 
completely routed, and driven from the field ; 
now there was nothing for it but to depend 
upon the presentation in the strongest light of 
the knowledge I had of Purvie’s character and 
associations. 


XII. 


W HEN I returned to the hotel, I left word 
at the desk that if any one inquired for 
me he was to be shown up at once, and then 
went to my room, and laying out writing 
materials prepared to put what I had to say 
into as convincing a shape as I was capable of. 
Out of the meager material, I must construct 
an argument strong enough to keep apart two 
people who were determined within three days 
to become man and wife. The accusations 
would carry more weight if they could come 
from any one else, for it was but natural they 
should distrust my statements after my unfor- 
tunate espousal of Arthur’s cause, in the face 
of the overwhelming proofs of his fickleness; 
I had made half a dozen beginnings and had 
impatiently torn them all up, when Jack opened 
the door : 

“Well, I didn’t waste much time, did I? 
Have you seen her ? ” 

“ I just came from her house.” 

“ How’d you come out ? ” 

“ I ran out,” said I, smiling grimly. 


i 82 


BROKEN BONES. 


Jack chuckled gleefully. “Did she set her 
dog on you ? Which way did you come — 
window or door ? ” 

“ It wasn’t funny by any means: the upshot 
of the whole move is — failure.” 

His face fell ; “ Do you mean we will have 
to let her marry that — ” he was casting about 
for some epithet strong enough to fittingly 
express his loathing — 

“ No,” I interrupted, “ I think if I send back 
by you the right sort of letter we may gain our 
point.” 

He mused a moment and then broke out 
with, “ Say, I ain’t afraid of that fellow, and I 
was thinking yesterday if I got into a fight 
with him — I might get whipped — but perhaps 
I could give him a black eye, and a man can’t 
get married with a green shade over his eye, 
can he ? ” 

As perplexed and worried as I felt, I could 
not resist the inclination to laugh at the air of 
perfect seriousness with which he made the 
ridiculous proposal, the mental picture of the 
rakish figure the elegant Purvie would cut 
standing at the altar with a shade over one eye, 
was exquisitely absurd. 

“ No, Jack, I don’t think I would try that ; 
extreme measures would only thwart our plans. 
Now let us put our heads tegether and corn- 
pose the letter,” 


BROKEN BONDS. 


183 


We set to work and our collaboration had 
produced a rough draft of what we intended 
saying, and I proceeded to write out an elabor- 
ated copy ; Jack had gone over to a seat by the 
window and was smoking a cigarette ; a knock 
came at the door, “ Come,” I said ; a boy came 
in. 

A letter for you, sir.” 

All right,” I muttered, without looking up, 
“just put it down ; ” he laid it on the other 
side of the table and went out slamming the 
door after him, in revenge for not getting the 
expected tip ; I went on writing and had nearly 
finished; Jack asked if I was through; 
“Almost,”! said; he got up, threw his cigar- 
ette away, stamped once or twice to restore 
the set of his trowsers and lounged over toward 
the table : 

“ Hello ! Why here’s a letter from Arthur.” 

“ What ! ” I exclaimed, jumping from my 
chair ; I was thunderstruck. While I was 
hastily tearing it open, it occurred to me he 
would not have written if he had not some 
good news to tell me. This is what he had to 
say : 

“ Heidelberg, January 12, 1883. 

“My Dear Van: — Your unkind letter 
reached me yesterday ; if you deliberately set 
about hurting me it will afford you satisfaction 
to know you have succeeded. I looked upon 


1 84 


BROKEN BONDS. 


you as the dearest friend I had on earth, yet no 
implacable enemy could have wounded me 
more cruelly. In heaven’s name why did you 
not long ago question Alice Brainard and 
learn the truth ? It seems to me unaccountable 
that you should not have found it out ; but if 
you really thought me mad enough to leave 
that girl, by my own inclination and without 
sufficient reason, why, during all these weeks, 
have you not taken the simple step of asking 
what drove me away? Was it, do you think, 
the part of a friend, to write that bitter note, 
knowing, as you did, that I was heartsick and 
wretched? You knew I must have had some 
strong reason for the step I took, and I do not 
see, in any case, why you should have felt 
obliged to assume so high-handed a style ; and 
there are passages I have puzzled over, but 
can not comprehend ! You say, if I come 
back you hope I will come alone ; in the name 
of all that is sensible how should I come ? 
Did you suspect me of an intention of intro- 
ducing oriental customs, and landing in New 
York with a turbaned retinue? Should I ever 
come back, I may bring over a dog or two, but 
my own personality, in the present state of my 
mind, is care enough for me. 

I don’t want to lecture you, nor am I dis- 
posed to pay you in kind, but I call the letter 
you sent me unnecessarily priggish, and devilish 


^ROKEM BONDS. 


i8s 


unkind. There is some big mistake some- 
where, for it isn’t like you to give me such an 
unconscionable laying out ; you have got things 
twisted somewhere, and I’ll try to put you 
right, although it forces me, reluctantly, 
to call up recollections I had hoped to have 
forgotten, to feel regrets which are as sharp as 
stabs. There is not much to tell. Here is the 
whole miserable story: It is useless to tell you 
I loved her ; you knew the beginning, you saw 
the growth of the feeling which made of me 
her slave, her worshiper ; she was to me 
more than human and higher than any being 
of the world I knew, or of the kingdoms of 
space ; no earthly or heavenly interest occu- 
pied ungrudged one instant of my thoughts, 
the hours not passed with her were counted 
lost ; in a word, she was all to me — the rest 
was nothing. All this you must have seen. 
When you looked at her you saw a beautiful 
face — when I looked into her eyes I saw a 
whole eternity of happiness. It wa^s as if, to 
every one but me, there was a veil, and I fan- 
cied that the depths of her soul could be 
fathomed only by my gaze. I thought, in my 
conceit, I was not indifferent to her, that she 
felt for me, if a little less than love, a little 
more than friendship, and I hoped that in the 
course of time she might consent to become 
my wife. Oh, God! If that happiness had 


BROKEN BONDS. 


i86 

been given me, how tenderly I would have 
loved and cared for her ! 

“Well, you remember that night at the club 
when I told you I had determined to ask her. 
You recollect, as I was about to go out Mr. 
Purvie joined us, and spoke of a patent he had 
brought to my attention, and took out of his 
pocket a letter, and tearing off what he sup- 
posed was the blank sheet, wrote upon it an 
address and handed it to me ; then you asked 
me the man’s name, and I read it to you ; the 
light shone through the paper, and, seeing there 
was writing on the back, I turned it over and, 
noticing the signature, read what was written 
there ; you saw how disturbed I was, and when 
you have read this fragment of a letter which 
I inclose, you will know the cause and will 
understand why I have put the ocean between 
her and myself.” 

Pasted in this place on the sheet was the 
scrap of paper which I insert here, as it forms 
part of hi^ letter ; it was apparently the con- 
tinuation over-page of a note, and was written 
on heavy linen paper in a woman’s hand : — “ on 
Tuesday, but I am expecting that tiresome 
Mr. Wardwell, who is so obtuse he seems 
incapable of understanding that we are engaged, 
and I am really afraid I shall have to come out 
with it point blank, and then perhaps you and 
I, darlings can have one evening to ourselves. 


BROKEN BONDS. 


187 


Dear Philo., I am so glad you are not a great 
big stupid like him. What do you think ! I 
told mamma of our engagement to-day, and 
when she heard there had been an understand- 
ing between us for so long she cried a little 
and said she thought she deserved to be 
treated with more confidence, but it’s all right, 
and the dear good old soul approves of my 
choice, as if any one could find fault with my 
Philo. 

‘‘ Now please come early to-night, dear^ so 
that when that hateful Mr. W. calls I can say 
I am out. 

“ Your own loving 
“Alice.” 

Arthur resumes his letter at this point : 

“ I shall never be more sorely tempted to 
take my own life, than I was in the first strong 
wrench of the exquisite agony that tore my 
soul. When the awful sickness of despair 
blotted out every hope, every longing, and I 
knew there was for me no present, no future, 
no past, a blind beast-like fury took^ossession 
of me. I was mad and something seemed to be 
saying to me — ‘ Kill that man and then commit 
self murder — there is no other way.’ 

“ After a little, I grew calmer, or perhaps it 
was the beginning of the dull, numb suffering I 
have felt ever since, and then my only thought 
was to get away at once, any where, so it 


i88 


BROKEN BOND^. 


should be far from the woman whose memory 
was a torture unspeakable. 

“You knowhow I went early the next morn- 
ing to the steamer and came over here. 

“ I have sought forgetfulness in many ways, 
have tested the virtue of serious occupation, 
have traveled rapidly from place to place, but 
wherever I go, whatever scene claims my 
attention, her face is always there ; like a dis- 
embodied soul I wander, conscious of little 
that goes on around me, my existence but a 
memory. I tell myself I ought not to permit 
my thoughts to linger upon the affianced wife 
of another man, but, God help me ! how weak 
I am ! 

“And I have brought it all upon myself; if I 
had not been insane enough to cherish the 
flattering belief that she could find some- 
thing to care for in me, I might have fought 
against the passion. Now you know the 
whole story. 

“ The only hope left to me is that you, my 
dear old friend, will not add to the bitterness 
of my life by withdrawing your confidence. 

“ I go from here back to Paris — in the big 
city the chances for sinking memory are better. 

“ Dont write to me about her. 

“ Arthur. 

“ P. S. In reading your letter again, I notice 
you refer to a report that I had engaged 


BROKEN BONDS. 189 

myself to some woman over here. Of course 
you did not seriously credit so stupidly foolish 
a rumor ; I ascribe your reference to it to the 
sweet temper you must have been in when 
you wrote to me. 

“ A. D. W.” 

There was a gulping fullness in my throat, 
and a great sense of thankfulness at my heart. 
I was wildly excited with the sudden relief, 
the surprise, the joy at so unexpectedly get- 
ting dear old Arthur back again completely 
cleared of every suspicion, and coming back to 
me, as it were, from the grave, nobler in my 
eyes than ever. 

“ Jack! Jack ! ” I cried, “ this is the greatest 
day since the world began ; to think that I was 
ass enough to doubt him ; I wish I was in a 
ten acre lot, Td give one yell that would raise 
your hair — here — stop — we’ll celebrate.” j 
rang for a hall boy, and ordered a bottle of 
Pommery, “ Shake hands, old man, every thing’s 
all right now, and that woman may go to the 
devil ! ” 

Jack was standing with his hands in his 
pockets, regarding me curiously; he had a 
vague idea that Arthur had sent some very 
good news. 

“ Say, stop jumping around like a hen with 
her head off, can’t you, and let me into the 
secret.” 


190 BROKEN BONDS. 

“ Read that, read that, if you want to be'sur- 
prised ; read it, and tell me what you think now 
of Mr. Purvie. What luck to have that letter 
come to-day ! ” I lighted a cigarand paced up 
and down the room while Jack read the letter. 
His frequent nervous starts and sharp ejacula- 
tions of “ By George ! ” or “ Thunder ! ” showed 
the effect it produced upon him. When he 
had finished he looked at me with wide open 
eyes, and said in a wondering tone : 

Well, of all the scoundrels — why Alice never 
wrote that note, that isn’t any thing like her 
hand writing. ” 

“He played a deep game. Jack, didn’t he? 
Who would have thought he had the brains.” 

“Now,” said I, when the wine had been 
brought, “ here’s luck and happiness to the best 
fellow that ever lived, and to Mrs. Wardwell 
that is to be, and confusion to that sneak and 
his accomplice.” 

“By gracious!” said Jack, “I can hardly 
believe it yet, it’s all so different from the way 
we supposed things stood, and that engagement 
wasn’t true, either.” 

“No, it was only one more lie gotten up to 
order ; the scheme was an artful one, but they 
didn’t count on us. Jack ; ” and we shook hands 
again and laughed delightedly to think how 
utterly routed they would be. In my mind’s 
eye, I saw with intense relish, the exquisite 


BROKEN BONDS. 


191 


picture of Purvie being shown the door, and 
Alice scornfully telling him she knows all his 
villainy. When the first ecstasy of glad relief 
had, in a measure, subsided, I sat down and 
wrote out an account of the arrival of the letter 
and called Mrs. Brainard's attention to the fact 
that the portion of a note, which had driven 
Arthur away, had been forged, and that, in my 
mind, there was no doubt that it had been 
done by the French woman; that the published 
notice of the engagement must have emanated 
from the same vile source ; and that now that 
we had Arthur’s denial of its truth, the situa- 
tion was the same precisely as before he went 
away, and the end must be the happy re-unit- 
ing of two hearts we knew loved so tenderly ; and 
I could not forbear crowing a little over the fact 
that I had always stoutly maintained that, in 
spite of appearances, my friend’s conduct would 
finally be vindicated. I had not believed it 
completely myself, but it is human to say, ‘‘ I 
told you so.” 

I put Arthur’s letter, with its inclosure, into 
an envelope, together with the account I had 
written, addressed it and handed it to Jack — 
he put it in the inside pocket of his coat and 
to make sure he should not lose it, I pinned 
it securely to the lining. Then we shook hands 
once more and had another glass of wine, 
and I remarked it was the happiest day of my 


BROKEN BONDS. 


19^ 

life, and Jack said “Me, too,” and, if we had 
been women, we would have cried over the 
situation. 

“ Now then, when do you go back ? ” I asked. 

“Oh, I think Fll stay here to-night, take in 
the theater, and leave after breakfast in the 
morning.” 

“ Why not go to-night ? The sooner your 
aunt gets that the better.” 

“There’s no such terrible hurry, any time 
to-morrow will be soon enough, and I’d rather 
stay here. Come on, let’s play some billiards, 
and after supper we’ll go somewhere, that was 
the original programme.” 

I made no further objections, and we spent 
the evening in the billiard room, more for the 
sake of having something to do, than for any 
attention we were able to give to the game. 
Again and again we talked over the fortun- 
ate solution of the complication, and chuck- 
led at the thought of the conspirators’ discom- 
fiture. 

The next morning at half past nine, we 
shook hands and parted: Jack took the ten 
o’clock train for New York, and I was to go on 
the limited express back to Baltimore ; I took 
with me a lighter heart than I had known for 
many a long day, for I was sure now that the 
marriage would not take place, and my dear 
old friend had come back to me. 


BROKEN BONDS. 


193 


It was understood that Jack was to write me 
a faithful account of how his aunt set about 
telling Alice, and what the effect on her was. 
I could imagine pretty nearly how it would all 
come to pass, how Alice’s love for Arthur would 
burst through the fetters of wounded pride, 
and share in her heart the feeling of intense 
loathing for the wretch who had sought to part 
them ; how she would feel that until he should 
come back she could not live, but, with suspend- 
ed faculties, bridge over the interval until his 
return. How glad she would be ; and her 
mother too, would she not be delighted at the 
thought that, after all, the cloud had been 
lifted from her darling’s life, and the peril of 
that other monstrous alliance been averted? 
How happy we would all be when Arthur 
should be with us once more. As soon as I 
should learn the particulars from Jack I would 
write to him, telling him every thing, begging 
to be forgiven for my lack of faith and urging 
him to lose no time in getting back. 

I remained for two days in this contented, 
tranquil frame of mind, then Jack’s letter came. 

Dear Van : — I’ve got a lot to tell you, but 
I’m in an awful hurry, so I can’t be particular 
about the style or the grammar. 

“ The day I left you in Philadelphia, I got 
home all right and found aunt in the sitting- 
room — she was wild with me for staying out all 


194 


BROKEN BONDS. 


night, said she had been worried to death; 
where had I been? I told her you had tele- 
graphed forme and I had gone to Philadelphia; 
she gave me the ‘ old boy,’ because I didn’t 
let her know where I had gone ; I told her I 
had a letter for her which would explain every 
thing. I was dying to see that letter knock her 
all of a heap. I handed it to her, and said, ‘ I 
guess when you read that, you’ll think you 
oughtn’t to scold me any more,’ and then I 
stood off and watched her ; she sat down and 
read it all through and then she got awful 
white and just lay back, and I thought she was 
dead; so I began to yell for Alice, and she 
came running down stairs ; she screeched a 
little and went and took her mother’s hand and 
commenced slapping it and told me to get 
some water quick; when I came back she asked 
me how it had happened. I said I had just 
given her a letter from you with one Arthur 
Wardwell had written to you ; she turned round 
on me awful mad, and said, ‘ Don’t you ever 
speak that man’s name again.’ I wouldn’t 
stand that, so I said, ‘ That’s the thanks I get 
for helping to clear up this mystery ; that man 
is coming back, and I wouldn’t be in that brute 
of a Purvie’s shoes for a good deal, I tell you.’ 
She thought there was something in it then, 
and she squinted her eyes and looked sort of 
queer, and said, ‘ What do you mean ? ’ 


BROKEN BONDS. 


195 


‘ I mean that it’s all a mistake, just as I 
said it was at first, and Van and I have found 
that scoundrel out ; why don’t you read the 
letter and then you’ll know all about it ? ’ She 
got as white as aunt, and I thought she was 
going to faint too, but she didn’t ; she kept look- 
ing at me while she slowly stooped over and 
picked up the letter ; then she read it carefully 
all through, and when she had almost finished 
aunt came to, and looked around and screamed, 
and said, ‘Alice, give me that letter, do you 
hear, give it to me,’ but Alice paid no attention 
at all — she didn’t seem to hear her, but just 
kept right on, and then aunt put her hands up 
to her face and began moaning, ‘ Oh ! My poor 
darling, my poor little girl ! ’ 

“I was beginning to get scared and I felt 
mighty uncomfortable, I can tell you. 

“ Alice got through at last, and she crumpled 
the letter up in her hand and stood still, look- 
ing at the other end of the room. If she had 
been told she couldn’t live another minute, she 
wouldn’t have looked any worse ; I couldn’t 
get it through my head at all — they ought to 
be so glad they could jump over the house, but 
you’d have thought they were practicing for a 
choice funeral. Alice said, just as if some one 
had struck her, and it hurt — ‘Too late, my 
God, too late.’ That frightened me, ‘ What’s 
^he matter, you look like a ghost ? ’ She was 


196 


BROKEN BONDS. 


just as still as if she had been made out of 
stone ; she slowly turned her eyes round to me, 
and said in a sort of hoarse voice, ‘ I am that 
wretch’s wife.’ I was so astonished I nearly 
fell down. ‘ What f ’ I yelled, ‘ you have mar- 
ried that low-lived blackguard?’ She didn’t 
answer — but I saw she meant yes. ‘ Why, it 
wasn’t to have been until to-morrow — are you 
sure ? ’ That was an idiotic question to ask 
her, but I couldn’t believe it yet. She held 
out her hand, and there was the wedding-ring ; 
she took it off and coolly tossed it into the 
fire. 

“ ‘ What possessed you to marry him to-day ? ’ 

“ ‘ He said he had important business and 
must go away to-night for a long while ; ’ she 
spoke as if she wasn’t talking to any body. 

“ I think it was about then that I commenced 
to understand what had happened, and I got 
madder than I ever was in my life ; I was 
trembling all over. ‘ Where is he ? ’ 

‘ Down stairs.’ 

“ I started for the door, and I think if I had 
gone down those stairs, I would have killed 
him sure, I could have strangled forty fellows 
like him. Alice said, ‘Stop, Jack.’ I turned 
round and looked at her. ‘ You must not touch 
him ; we want no scandal.’ I knew she was 
right, but it was ‘ hard lines ’ to let him go scot 
free ; she went over to her mother, who was 


BROKEN BONDS. 


197 


still crying, and laid her hand on her shoulder: 
‘ Mamma,’ she said, ‘ it is hard, hard, but I de- 
serve it all for doubting him ; ’ she walked 
slowly out and went down to the drawing room. 
I ran down the back stairs and stood in the 
hall near the door, so I could be near her, if 
she wanted me. When she went in, that cur 
said, ^ Dear Alice — why, what’s the matter, love, 
are you ill ? ’ 

“ ‘ Do not come near me, I know you now, 
and I hope these will be the last words I shall 
ever say to you. I am your wife in name, God 
help me ! But I shall never again speak to 
you or recognize you. Go ! ’ 

“‘Why, what — what do you mean? You 
can’t be in earnest ? ’ 

“‘I know how vile you are, and once more 
I tell you to go ! ’ 

“ ‘ Alice, my darling ! For heaven’s sake have 
pity on me, remember how I loved you — ’ 

“ ‘ I shall listen to you no longer ; if you do 
not go at once, I shall leave the room and you 
can take your departure at your leisure.’ 

“ Purvie’s voice changed, it got harsh and 
ugly : 

Do you think I have worked and schemed 
all this time to be thwarted now that you are my 
wife — do you think I have no rights? You 
have found me out, have you ? Well, what 
good will that do you ? You will find that the 


198 


BROKEN BONDS. 


law will give me all my rights as your husband, 
and if you choose to be obstinate, Til show you 
that I can be a hard master. Your elegant airs 
won’t have the same effect on me now that 
they did when you made me keep my dis- 
tance. You must obey me, do you under- 
stand ? ’ 

“ I thought it was about time to interfere, 
so I walked in and went up close to him, and 
said : 

You can either go out quietly, damn you, 
or I’ll throw you down the stoop ! ’ 

“ He looked at me a second, and then he 
edged off and I guess he thought I meant 
business, because he turned round and went 
out of the door. I was itching to hit him, 
but I knew Alice wouldn’t like it, so I let 
him go. 

“ I must hurry up and get through with this 
letter, for we start for the steamer in half an 
hour ; we are going to Europe on the German 
line to be gone an indefinite time, so Alice says 
— she has arranged it all, and I have been flying 
around so, buying things and attending to some 
business matters for aunt, that this is the first 
chance I’ve had to drop you a line. I suppose 
all this will surprise you — you thought every 
thing was all right, same as I did ; aunt says 
there is no way out of the scrape without suing 
for a divorce^she has had her lawyer here — 


BROKEN BONDS. 


199 


and of course they wouldn’t do that, so we are 
going as far away from him as we can get — 
there are no plans, you know, we are just going 
to loaf around on the Continent, and I would 
think it a jolly old spree, if the crowd was a 
little more cheerful. Alice don’t cry any ; aunt 
is the only one who does that, and she is pretty 
moderate about it, but they don’t indulge 
much in smiling. It’s awful hard to think noth- 
ing can be done — if that Purvie would only have 
the decency to go and die, every thing would 
be all right again ; Alice would be a widow — 
she isn’t going to change her name though, she 
is still Miss Brainard. 

“ I haven’t any address to give you, but when 
we get on the other side I’ll send you one. 

“Yours, 

“ John Elmer.” 

I think by this time my sensibilities were 
dulled : I was shocked ; I felt intense regret, 
but the rapid succession of strong emotions I 
had been experiencing had worn out my capa- 
bility to appreciate the sharpness jdI disappoint- 
ment, which would have overwhelmed me a 
few weeks earlier. Here, I might be certain, 
was the end, unless a miracle should be per- 
formed. When the situation had been at its 
worst, Arthur’s letter had come and apparently 
every thing would be ordered according to our 
dearest wishes ; it seemed as if beyond a per- 


200 


BROKEN BONDS. 


adventure, the happy end had come to our all 
but certain doubts and despair, and, with the 
future secured. Jack arrives one little hour too 
late, and the contract which a whole lifetime 
of weeping can not blot out, has been signed, 
and these two, as far apart as the devil and the 
angels, are bound together by a tie which would 
cut deep into her soul, and its tightening strain 
at last would break the bonds which bound her 
to the rack of torturing regrets, and her heart 
would go to wait for his, where love is justice 
and the right is law. That would be the only 
solution — she would die at last. Her life would 
be a sweetly bitter dream of what it might have 
been ; Arthur would still have all the tender- 
ness she would strive to drive out of her rebel- 
lious thoughts ; but she would faithfully keep to 
the lonely path, unlighted, save by the uncertain 
glare at the further end, faintly shining from 
beyond the grave. 

My thoughts were somber, and, for a day or 
more I had an attack of the blues. I recollected I 
owed Arthur afetter ; dear old chap, how terribly 
hard he would take it, when he heard happiness 
had been snatched from him when it was so 
nearly within his grasp ! Then it occurred to me 
that as soon as I had finished this railroad busi- 
ness, I would have little or nothing to do, and 
why not run over and see him ? I might as well, 
and to tell the truth I had a half acknowledged 


BROKEN BONDS. 


201 

fear that the latest and worst misfortune might 
drive him to something desperate, and there 
was no one who could persuade him out of 
a rash resolve but myself, so I made up my 
mind to go. 


XIII. 



HE bright morning sun threw lace-work 


1 patterns of the leafless twigs upon the 
asphalt ; the hard metallic sound of the omni- 
bus wheels, and the absence of tables in front 
of the Cafe Americaine told that it was winter, 
but the air had the softness of spring with the 
tonic flavor of October. On the boulevard the 
crowd on this side, the crowd made up of so 
many elements, and yet seeming essentially 
typical, was moving steadily past for the most 
part toward the Madeleine ; on the other side, 
gazing in the window of the toy store were 
some poorly clad children ; further to the right 
two young men were emerging from the 
tobacco shop ; there were a half dozen women 
of various ages, and various degrees of genteel 
black shabbiness ; there were people enough 
and vehicles enough, but the scene, in spite of 
the brilliant sun-light, was depressing. I think 
Paris always is at nine o’clock in the morning. 
If you wish to see her in a smiling mood, you 
must never make the mistake of rising before 
ten. ^ 

When one can not sleep, however, even the 


BROKEN BONDS. 203 

contemplation of the half awake loitering 
crowd, and that deep sense of loneliness which 
is only felt where humanity swarms thickest, 
are preferable to the stuffy closeness of a hotel 
room. This was my second day in Paris. 

About ten days after receiving Jack’s letter, 
I finished my work in Baltimore, went back to 
New York, straightened out my own affairs, 
and a week thereafter took passage for Liver- 
pool. The trip over was the usual thing ; a lit- 
tle seasickness, a very trifling amount of what 
I called good weather, a great deal of what the 
officers said was ‘‘ fine weather,” and two days 
of what they acknowledged was “ a little rough 
the growing impression that we were there to 
stay ; and the feeling at last that it was strange 
we had actually sighted land, and would once 
more walk on something firmer than a tilting 
plank. 

I had gone up to London without wasting a 
moment, caught the tidal train for Folkestone, 
and here I was, glad I had come on Arthur’s 
account, but sorry on my own. I had told him 
every thing yesterday. What a day that was ! I 
shall never believe that all through the after- 
noon, he was not mad : if the doctor had not 
given him opiates, I am confident he would 
have destroyed himself as he said so calmly he 
would do, and in spite of me too — I would have 
been a child in his grasp. What a wonderful 


204 BROKEN BONDS. 

thing this love of his was — I thought so then, I 
think so now. 

When he awoke he was quiet and rational, 
but how pitifully sad was the look in his eyes 
as he gazed far back into his dreary thoughts. 

As I regarded him critically, the task I had 
set myself appalled me. To attempt to cheer 
him up would make the extraction of wit from 
a funeral sermon a mere bagatelle by compari- 
son. What an awful undertaking it had been to 
break it to him gently ! How fiercely, delight- 
edly happy that amazed “What!’' had been, 
when I told him the piece of a letter was a for- 
gery and she never had cared for any one but 
him ; how his face had brightened, and his eyes 
grown soft, and then, observing my grave 
appearance, the glad look had died out, and the 
trouble had crept into his face and had gradu- 
ally deepened until rapidly I had told him all, 
and he was for the time mad. 

No question elicited any reply, he only kept 
mumbling unintelligible words to himself ; and 
then I had sent for a physician, and he had 
said his state was precarious and the attack 
might result in brain fever ; he was suffering 
from some immense strain on the nerves, the 
head was the weak spot, and he must be kept 
quiet ; if he awoke the next morning in his 
usual health all would be well, and then he must 
be amused, diverted from the thoughts that had 


BROKEN BONDS. 205 

caused the trouble ; he gave him some mor- 
phine, and fortunately Arthur awoke this morn- 
ing without a trace of fever. • 

I walked back into the court and met him as 
he came down the steps : He was pale and 
there were dark rings under his eyes ! “ Now 

old man !” said I, briskly, “let's go for a little 
walk as an appetizer, and then we’ll have break- 
fast.” 

He assented and we turned down, and walked 
as far as the Champs Elys^es, and continued on 
up that avenue, talking about the political situ- 
ation at home, the opera, the men at the club, 
my railroad case, and every thing I could think of 
that had no bearing on his trouble. He could 
not exhibit much cheerfulness, but I could 
count on his manfully hiding his grief — his was 
not a nature to weakly give way, no matter how 
severe the blow. There were very few people 
in this part of Paris at that hour : there was a 
sprinkling of bonries with their charges, an oc- 
casional horseman, and here and there a pedes- 
trian like ourselves ; there was nothing in our 
surroundings to inspire me, and soon we grew 
silent. We slowly walked on and after a long 
pause, he said : 

“ What do you think that scoundrel will 
do?” 

“ I don’t know.” 

He stopped and faced me. 


io6 BROKEN BONDS. 

^^Yes, you do. You think as I do. All he 
wants is money, and he would stoop to any thing 
to obtain it. She will not see him, but do you 
imagine that for one moment he will cease 
persecuting her ? I believe she will never know 
a peaceful hour while he lives.” 

It was true. I knew he was right. The 
same thought had occurred to me. 

“ What can you do ? If you were to inter- 
fere, idle tongues would attack her reputation. 
You have no rights that conventional propriety 
would recognize : he is her husband in name — ” 
“Yes,” he broke out bitterly, “ the miserable 
farce is stronger than the truth, and she is so 
good, she will render him the faithfulness that 
will always keep us apart. Is it right that a 
life like hers should be sacrificed to him ? ” 

“ Right or not, the fact is the same and there 
is no help for it. Look it squarely in the face, 
Arthur. It is not easy, but try to give her up 
and turn your attention to other things — this 
brooding is dangerous. Why not go back 
home? You would feel more reconciled at the 
thought that thousands of miles separate you.” 

“No, I shall stay here, I may be of use. Oh, 
my God ! ” he exclaimed passionately, “ if I 
could do any thing, any thing to help her ! ” 

“ She does not require help from any one. 
You know her nature well enough to be sure 
she will have nothing to do with him, and my 


broken bonds. 207 

opinion is he is afraid of her and will not adopt 
any extreme measures.” 

Arthur smiled grimly. He had better not.’’ 

I think it was then the thought first occurred 
to me that I must prevent a meeting between* 
the two men. 

He put his hand on my shoulder and said 
slowly : 

“ Van, will you show me that there is some- 
thing left worth living for? She is gone and I 
see nothing ahead. What can I do ? ” 

I took his hand : “ There is your profession, 
old man, you can easily reach the top there.” 

He shook his head and looked vacantly past 
me toward the Bois. ^‘No, that isn’t exciting 
enough ; I want something that will absorb 
every thought — hard, constant work of some 
kind, and something that will not leave me too 
much alone.” 

“ Don’t you think travel is the best thing ? ” 

“ Perhaps so,” he said wearily, “let us try it.” 

From that moment I never heard him utter 
one word of complaint ; his old cheerfulness 
was not there, but he had bravely accepted the 
inevitable. 

We went to the Caf6 Riche that morning for 
breakfast. The outer tables were taken, so we 
sat near one of the mirrors. I was just giving 
the order, when without a word of warning some 
one struck me a blow on the back which almost 


2o8 broken bonds. 

took my breath away, and a hearty voice that 
lingered with a relish on the letter “ r '' 
exclaimed : 

‘‘Well, I never expected to see you here. 
Where’d you come from ? Hello, there’s Ward- 
well, too ; how are you ? ” 

It was Halleck, an old school friend who had 
gone into the dry-goods business in Chicago — 
one of ^those enterprising New Englanders 
whose society is more or less agreeable accord- 
ing to the surroundings, and the topic under 
discussion ; fortunately we escaped this time 
with only a passing allusion to the state of 
trade, and the price of calico. A good hearted 
fellow, but one who had always been a little 
raw. 

“ Sit down and have some breakfast.” 

“Breakfast! You can’t get any over here,” 
he said, with a look of supreme disgust. “ For 
the last ten weeks I have been trying to get a 
square meal and haven’t succeeded yet. Why, 
I came into this very place yesterday morning 
and called for five different dishes — ordered ’em 
all at once, you understand, to save time — knew 
I’d have to send back most of ’em. Well, sir 1 
I Went out hungry, and the experiment cost me 
thirty francs. I’d give fifty dollars for a good 
solid American breakfast. They don’t know 
how to live over here ; look at their dinners — 
nothing but a lot of scraps with highfalutin 


BROKEN BONDS. 


209 


names. It’ll be a blessed day when I get back 
to New York and can have some sweet potatoes 
and corn and pie.” 

“You seem to be having a hard time,” I 
remarked laughing. 

“ I should say so. They don’t even serve 
coffee like Christians ; instead of giving you a 
regular cup with your meal, you have to drink 
a lot of sour wine, ’cause the water ain’t fit even 
to wash in, and after you’re all through they 
bring on a thimble-full of black stuff that could 
give quinine points for bitterness. I , tell you. 
I’m about tired of this sort of thing. And I 
can’t stand a nation of beggars either. They 
always have their hands out. They’re a very 
open-handed set,” he concluded with a grin. 

“If you don’t like it, why do you stay here?” 
Arthur inquired. 

“ Well, I’ll tell you ; I sent a chap over last 
spring to buy some silks, down in Lyons, you 
know, and he made a fearful mess of it ; bought 
the wrong goods and got swindled almost out 
of his eyes ; talk about Yankee shrewdness ! We 
ain’t a patch on these fellows. We dropped a 
lot of money, but we gained the experience, 
and this time I calculated if any body got stuck 
it’d better be the head of the house, so I came. 
I didn’t go right back, because I’d never been 
in Europe before, and I wanted to see it all, so 
I’ve been taking in the principal points ; been 


210 


BROKEN BONDS. 


down the Rhine, through Switzerland, Lake 
Como, Rome, the regular thing, you know ; all 
Americans do it, only I ain’t like most of ’em, 
they worry through the trip and swear they had 
a grand time — I acknowledge I was a first-class 
fool to come ; I tell you there’s no place like 
Chicago.” 

^ “ How about New York?” I ventured tim- 

idly. 

“Oh! New York’s well enough, but it’s a 
little too slow for me ; too much stagnation in 
trade.” 

I noticed that in spite of his abhorrence of 
French cooking, he was making a very satis- 
factory meal. 

“Did you meet any Americans?” Arthur 
asked, and I thought I knew what was in his 
mind. 

“ Yes, a good many ; let’s see ” — he paused to 
think with his fork pointing upward, his eyes 
on the ceiling, and his jaws working; “Let’s 
see ; oh ! yes, in Nice I saw a fellow perhaps you 
know — man by the name of Purvie ; I used to 
know him in Chicago two or three years ago; 
been in New York some time; he’s a light 
weight ! ” 

“ Yes, we know him. You say he is in Nice ; 
when were you there?” Arthur had stopped 
eating, and was looking intently at Halleck. 

“ Just came from there three days ago ; he’s 


BROKEN BONDS. 


2II 


going it strong. If he owes you any money 
' this is a good time to strike him for it, he’s 
winning it by the cords ; the day I got there, I 
went over to Monte Carlo to throw away a few 
dollars, and who should I see but this Purvie as 
large as life, and looking as if he was cutting a 
pretty wide swath. I thought I’d just watch 
him, and while I stood there, he raked in twenty- 
five hundred francs. The next night he did 
the same thing only he won more. He’s liable 
to go broke at one sitting, but he’s flush now.” 

“ Was he intending to remain there long ? ” 

“ I don’t know, I don’t speak to him ; he 
tried it, but I cut him dead. We were at the 
same hotel.” 

“You are not on friendly terms with him, 
then ? Perhaps you are one of his unfortunate 
creditors ? ” Arthur hinted. 

“ No, that ain’t it. You see he was a member 
of my club, the Junior Occidental, and one 
evening the boys got up a game of ‘ draw ; ’ 
this Purvie was in it, and they caught him 
cheating. Tom Fennell grabbed a chair and 
started for him and Purvie left his chips on the 
table and made a break for the door.” Hal- 
leck stopped to laugh. “ Well, sir, you could 
have played checkers on his coat tails as he 
went down stairs. Of course we bounced him, 
and none of the boys would recognize him after 
that.” 


212 


BROKEN BONDS. 


With a lingering chuckle he returned to 
his breakfast. 

‘‘When do you leave Paris?’’ I inquired. 

“ I don’t know ; when do you go ? ” 

Arthur said quickly, “We take the train to- 
night for Nice.” 

I looked up amazed ; this was a project I 
had not heard of. 

Halleck said with aknowing leer, “So you’re 
going to try Purvie’s system, are you ? I 
hope you’ll break the bank, but if you have 
my luck you’ll only break your own bank ac- 
count.” 

He bade us good-by after breakfast, saying 
with a sigh, “ I may see you before you 
leave, but I can’t tell : I’ve laid out to do the 
Louvre to-day.” 

When he was gone, I turned to Arthur, who 
was dipping a cigarette in his Chartreuse — 

“ Were you in earnest about that trip to 
Nice?” 

“ Yes.” 

“You go because he is there. What good 
will it do you ? Can you gain any thing ? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ I do. You will have a confoundedly disa- 
greeable journey for nothing.” 

“ Still, I am going,” he said, quickly, looking 
at me through the smoke. 

“ See here, Arthur, don’t be obstinate ; it 


BROKEN BONDS. 


213 


won’t make you feel any better to have a look 
at that fellow.” 

He puffed at his cigarette and said nothing. 

‘‘ Have you fully made up your mind to go ? ” 

‘^Yes.” _ 

Then do me the favor to wait until we get 
a letter from Jack ; it won’t be more than a few 
days now. I left instructions at home to have 
every thing forwarded to me here, and a letter 
is due.” 

The suggestion seemed to strike him favor- 
ably. 

‘‘ That’s a good idea, Van. We’ll wait.” 

We remained in Paris three days, and I con- 
scientiously strove to fill every hour with some 
undertaking or amusement. Arthur thwarted 
me in nothing ; he agreed to every proposition, 
entered willingly into all my plans. He was 
pleasant, but not gay ; he sat through the opera, 
but did not enjoy it ; he passively yielded him- 
self to my guidance, but if he found no fault, 
on the other hand he offered no suggestions. 
He would take up a book or a paper and sit 
for hours with it on his lap, lighting cigarette 
after cigarette and thinking; no murmur, no 
exclamation would escape him ; he calmly 
yielded himself to the fiend that was tortur- 
ing him, and gave no sign that memory was 
trying his soul almost beyond human endur- 
ance. He was a grim figure at that time ; his 


214 


BROKEN BONDS. 


hurt must be borne and nursed alone ; my sym- 
pathy could not reach as deep as the blow had 
struck. 

On the third day I received a packet from 
New York. Among the rest was a letter post- 
marked at Stuttgart; it was from Jack, I 
opened it and read : 

“ My Dear Van : — Europe is not what I 
thought it was. I could have more fun in 
New York in a day than I could here in a 
century. It’s beastly slow. Instead of going to 
some lively place they’ve buried themselves in 
this crazy old town. There’s the awfullest old 
duffer here for a king you ever saw, looks like 
one of our aldermen — I always thought kings 
looked grand and wore crowns. There is noth- 
ing to do and nowhere to go, and all we amuse 
ourselves with is eating and sleeping, and read- 
ing Tauchnitz novels. I’ve read more books 
since I’ve been here than all the rest of my 
life put together — two a day is my regular 
diet. I wish to heaven you would come over 
here and induce them to go somewhere else— 
aunt says she intends staying all winter, and 
may be until next summer ; says she is tired 
of traveling — now, isn’t that rough on me ? I’m 
not tired of it — I never had a chance to be. I 
asked Alice the other day how she liked it, and 
she said she didn’t care, one place was the 
same as another to her^ as long as she could 


BROKEN BONDS, 


215 


be quiet. Between you and me, I think it’s 
bad for her ; she isn’t like herself ; she is pale 
and doesn’t seem to take any interest in any 
thing. She tries to be cheerful, but she isn’t, 
and often I have to speak to her two or three 
times before she hears me. 

“We had been here less than a week, and 
one day when I was in the sitting room alone, 
a letter came up ; I looked at the envelope, 
and saw it was mailed from Nice ; it was 
directed to Alice in a man’s hand ; I 
couldn’t imagine who it was from. When 
she came in I handed it to her ; she 
read it and gave a big sigh, and crumpled 
it up in her hand. She sat still a long while, 
and at last I asked her who it was from ; she 
said, ‘ From him' \ I asked her how he could 
have found out where she was, and she said she 
supposed that was easy enough, as he probably 
knew they had sailed for Bremen — it wouldn’t 
be difficult to trace us. I didn’t say any thing 
more about it, and four days afterward an- 
other letter arrived in the same hand ; I tried 
to find out from both of them what he wanted, 
but neither my aunt nor Alice would tell me a 
word [ I found out though. That afternoon 
aunt went to her banker’s, I was with her, and 
she bought a draft on Nice, and then we came 
back by the way of the postoffice, and she 
stopped to mail a letter, 


2i6 


BROKEN BONDS. 


“ That rascal has been begging for money. 
I caught aunt crying to-day, and told her what 
I thought was going on, but she wouldn’t say 
anything — thinks I’m too young. 

‘‘ Arthur couldn’t come, I suppose, but I wish 
you would try to. 

“Alice must have thought a lot of him; 
you’d say so if you could see as much of her 
as I do. 

“ Don’t wait until you’re gray before you 
answer this, and do come if you can. 

“ Yours faithfully, 

“John Elmer.” 

I read it to Arthur. When I had finished he 
got up and walked slowly up and down the 
room. When he turned to me and spoke, the 
listless look had disappeared, and was replaced 
by a hard determination ; the letter had roused 
him to action. 

“Will you start for Nice to-night?” 

I made a virtue of necessity and said I would. 
If I had not, he would have gone alone. 

He rang for the clerk of our floor, paid our 
bill, and two hours later we rolled out of the 
Gare du Nord, en route for the Mediterranean — 
and, I told myself, a dangerous encounter. 

We are walking on the promenade by the 
shores of the blue sea ; the gommeux parisiens^ 
the erect, awkward striding English women, 


Broken- bonds. 


217 

some of them holding by the hand babies of 
three or four years, dressed, even to the flapping 
trovvsers, like the tars of the country which is 
popularly supposed to rule the waves, elastic- 
stepping American women and their escorts, the 
best dressed, and usually the best looking, 
among the crowd which has no other thought 
than the full enjoyment of the thoroughly com- 
fortable air, and the genial southern sunlight, 
which, in that region, has a character of its own, 
make of the promenade this breezy afternoon, 
one of the brightest spots in Europe. Not a 
word had been said in reference to the object 
of our long journey. Arthur had voluntered no 
information as to his plans, and I had asked 
for none ; to do so would have been superfluous ; 
I knew he was determined to have an explana- 
tion with the man who had destroyed his future. 
I was sure there would be trouble of some 
sort. 

We had been walking, perhaps half an hour, 
and I was getting tired : “ Haven't you had 
about enough of this ? ” 

No," he answered, “ I am looking for him; 
you can go back to the hotel if you like ; I will 
join you presently." 

As he spoke, we came face to face with Pur- 
vie, and at his side was Mile. Troisfois! I was 
amazed; my angriest thoughts of him had 
never given him credit for such infernal devil- 


2i8 broken bonds. 

try as bringing that woman to Europe with 
him a few days after his marriage. As he 
caught sight of us, he turned red and the color 
instantly faded, leaving him as white as his col- 
lar. I hastily told Arthur who his companion 
was. We stopped when they had passed us, 
and looked after them. 

Arthur stretched his arm out, pointing at 
them : 

“ Do you see that ? ” he said, sternly, bitterly, 
“there is no justice on earth,” he walked on a 
few steps irresolutely and stopped again. “ Van, 
go back to the hotel and wait for me.” He 
looked dangerous, and I refused. “Very well, 
then, come on.” He turned round and walked 
so rapidly I had difficulty in keeping up with 
him. 

“ What are you going to do ? ” I inquired. 

He paid no attention to my question, but 
kept on, looking eagerly ahead. He was a lit- 
tle in front of me. I saw him approach Purvie 
on the side furthest from the woman and touch 
him on the arm. As I came up he was saying, 
while indicating a spot where we would be free 
from observation : “ I’ll meet you there then in 
fifteen minutes.” “All right,” the other replied 
and went on slowly, 

Arthur walked nervously up and down, his 
working face and his silence telling of the sup- 
pressed excitement that would vent itself in the 


BROKEN BONDS. 


219 


coming interview. I was seriously apprehen- 
sive that the adventure would end unfortunately, 
perhaps tragically ; he was impulsive and when 
roused would not stop to think of consequen- 
ces ; he held his life so cheaply too, now that 
she was lost to him. Mentally resolving to do 
my best to avert trouble, I awaited Purvie’s 
return as calmly as I could. 

At length he came ; he walked straight up to 
Arthur with an air which in him was too bold 
not to have been assumed, and said briskly, 
“ Well, sir, I have humored you by keeping this 
peculiar appointment ; now what do you want 
of me ? ” 

Arthur stood perfectly still, his hands crossed 
behind his back, and slowly surveyed the man 
who stood before him ; it must have been fully 
a minute before he spoke: ‘‘Why is it,'’ he 
began with an ugly smile, “ that you do not 
greet either Van or myself as your friend ? ” 
As the other was about to reply he said sharply, 
“Stop! /will tell you why,” the passion was 
rising in him, and his eyes were beginning to 
flash, “ because, to deceive a girl whom you are 
not fit to look upon, you wrote or had written 
a letter supposed to have been sent by her to 
you ; that letter was a forgery.” 

Purvie was shifting uneasily from one foot to 
the other. “ It was not a forgery ; she sent it to 
me. What right — ” 


220 


BROKEN BONDS. 


Arthur broke out vehemently, ^‘You lie!’* 
He waited for the blow he thought would come, 
but the coward tremblingly spluttered out : 

“What do you mean, sir, by insulting me? 
You shall answer for this ; ” he turned and was 
walking away. 

Arthur said, “ Come back here, I am not 
through with you yet.” 

He turned half round and looked toward us, 
and, after a moment of indecision, he retraced 
his steps and stood before us once more, a 
criminal before his judge ; he attempted a little 
more indignation, but my friend paid no atten- 
tion to him. 

“ That was the first dishonorable thing you 
did, and you succeeded in getting rid of your 
rival ; the second piece of villainy you indulged 
in was to have published the notice of my 
engagement to an English woman : that was the 
most venial of all your crimes. Then, you 
cunningly played upon Miss Brainard’s belief 
that she had been scornfully thrown over, which 
impression you had created and fostered, until, 
in a moment of pique, she consented to marry 
you, and you thought you had her fortune 
securely within your grasp, for it was her money 
you were after. But I had left behind me a 
good friend, to whom my honor was as dear as 
his own, and the woman I had loved he deter- 
mined to protect from the wiles of a scoundrel 


BROKEN BONDS. 


22t 


like you, as he would have shielded his sister; 
he discovered your plot, and but for a telegram 
sent by your accomplice, would have foiled 
you, and the great wrong you have committed 
have been made ijnpossible.” 

Arthur paused and waited a moment, but the 
other remained silent, nervously tapping his 
shoe with his cane, his eyes upon the ground. 

“ Even that is not the worst. During all the 
time you were calling upon your victim, you 
were continuing a disgraceful liaison with a bal- 
let-dancer in Philadelphia, and now that you 
have finished your foul scheme, you, the hus- 
band of the best woman that ever lived, flaunt 
this creature in the face of the world. It was 
to obtain money to satisfy her demands that 
you sought to drag that poor girl down to your 
level." He stepped close to Purvie, who drew 
back cringing, and continued — 

“ Do you know why I have come here ? I 
will tell you. The wrong you have done me, I 
might have forgiven, but you have dared to 
injure her. Did you think retribution would 
not overtake you ? In this country the code of 
honoris still resorted to and I shall kill you." 

Purvie trembled like a leaf, but was still 
silent. 

“ Won’t you speak, you cowardly blackguard ? 
Will no insult arouse a little manliness? You 
miserable cur, shall I have to strike you ? ’’ 


^22 


BROKEN BONDB 


Arthur raised his hand ; Purvie quickly 
stepped backward and cried excitedly — 

“ If you dare to strike me, I will circulate 
the report all over Europe that you are her 
lover.’’ 

“ Damn you ! ” Arthur cried, springing toward 
him with upraised arm. I rushed between them 
just in time to seize his wrist, and push him 
back. 

“ He will do it,” I cried. “ Remember 
Alice.” 

Her name quieted him. 

“Will you meet me?” he inquired almost 
persuasively of Purvie, who now that he had 
found a means of escape had lost the expres- 
sion of abject fear and was once more arrogant. 

“No,” he replied, “and if you try to force 
a duel upon me, I will say, I can not fight on 
account of a woman who sends her lover to put 
me out of the way.” 

If I had not been there to restrain Arthur, 
that speech would have cost Purvie his life. I 
flung both arms around my friend and struggled 
with all my might to keep him back, while I 
shouted, 

“ Go ! you cowardly fool, or he will kill 
you ! ” 

I had scarcely enough breath to enunciate 
the words. I was exerting all my strength, 
while Arthur, infuriated, was shouting: 


BROKEN BONDB 223 

‘‘Let me go, for God’s sake, Van, let me 
go?” 

“ I will not,” I said, and I did not, until 
Purvie disappeared round a distant corner. 

The scene from beginning to end had lasted 
not more than fifteen minutes, yet when it was 
over, I felt as if I had done a hard day’s work. 
Arthur picked up his hat and stick, buttoned 
his coat, which I had almost dragged off, and 
we started to return to the hotel. We walked 
some distance before a word was spoken ; he 
was the first to break the silence. 

“ I am glad you were there. Van, I think I 
should have killed him, and then the scandal 
would have reached Alice. Yes, I am glad I 
did not kill him,” he continued deliberately, 
as if hardly convinced that he really ought to 
have allowed him to escape with his life. 

“ Don’t you see, Arthur, that if you were to 
thrash the hound as he deserves, he would do 
as he threatened, and he would suffer less than 
Alice ? Even if you were to ‘ call him out,’ 
which you would not do, because we are not 
living in the eighteenth century, your ven- 
geance would still only make matters worse. 
If you should take his life, the world would 
utter the vile slander.” 

He turned upon me indignantly. 

“ Do you mean to say I can not call him to 
account ? ” 


224 


BROKEN BONDS. 


“ How can you ? ” 

I can not see my way clearly yet, but I 
hope to think out a plan. I believe the things 
he has done should not go unpunished, and 
some day we shall have a reckoning.” 


XIV. 


W HEN we were down by the sea once more, 
he met a young Englishman he knew, 
and introduced him as Lord Rico ; he was a 
tall, slim, weak-eyed, fair-haired boy with a 
suspicion of white down on his lip. His extreme 
costume suggested a uniform. 

“Ton my life, Wardwell, you’re the last 
fellah in the world I expected to see here — 
heard you were grinding at your profession 
again, going in for work, and that sort of thing, 
don’t you know.” 

“ I’ve been over some weeks ; how are your 
mother and sisters? ” 

“ They’re jolly ; didn’t bring them with me 
this time — just ran over for a lark. You must 
go and see them when you’re in England — 
they’ll be awf’ly pleased to see you again, you 
know.” 

“ Thank you, I hardly think I shall cross the 
channel this time — in fact, I haven’t made up 
my mind what I shall do.” 

“Just like me — I’m knocking about — felt 
bored at home and thought I’d try it here ; 
the girls often speak of you ; Gwen says she 


226 


BROKEN BONDS. 


never can forget the time you stopped her 
horse — awf’ly plucky, that was.” 

^‘Nonsense,” Arthur said, half annoyed; 
“ have you left Oxford yet ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I pulled through over a year ago. 
How long is it since you were at Woodside ? ” 

“Three years.” 

“By Jove, it doesn’t seem half of it. 
What do you find to kill time with here ? It’s 
beastly stupid.” 

“ We have only just arrived.” 

“ Then you haven’t seen the howling beauty? 
She’s the most magnificent creature — ” 

We smiled at his enthusiasm — “ No,” I said, 
“ we have not observed any one who would 
answer to that description. What is she like?” 

“ She is perfect — that’s all I can tell you ; 
she is dark, with black hair and jet black 
eyes, and her figure is like that statue in the 
Louvre — what is it? — er — the Venus de Milo, 
don’t you know.” 

The boy’s remarks had put a queer idea into 
my head. 

“ What is her name?” I asked. 

“ Mrs. Plaquemine, she’s a young widow, a 
— what do you call it — Creole from New Or- 
leans, a place in South America, you know.” 

I wondered if, among other things, they 
taught geography in British schools. 

“You’re quite sure to see her,” he went on, 


BROKEN BONDS. 


227 


** she walks out every afternoon with a man by 
the name of Purdy — or Purvie, yes, that’s it — 
deuced queer name, isn’t it? I’ve been trying 
every way I knew to get an introduction to 
her, and yesterday I managed it at last ; it was 
hard work, because this fellow she’s with so 
much is terribly jealous, and the men at the 
club all say he is crazy over her ; I don’t blame 
him.” 

“ Is she stopping at one of the hotels?” 

“No, she says she has apartments — it seems 
there is a younger sister with her — she’s a 
thoroughbred.” 

Arthur was chafing under his prattle, and I 
was restless too, so when we reached the door 
of our hotel we asked where he was stopping 
and remarked we would see him again ; he left 
us and we went to our rooms. 

I had had enough of Nice, and was determ- 
ined to get him away, for I felt there was more 
or less risk in his meeting Purvie day after day. 
I proposed to him that we should go to southern 
Italy ; he seemed pleased at the idea, and the 
next morning we started. We had no definite 
aim, no settled purpose that demanded haste, 
and, as time was not a factor in our calcula- 
tions, we loitered idly about the streets and 
palaces of Genoa, until the spirit of unrest 
seized upon us and we drifted into Florence. 
As usual, the city was full of English and 


228 


BROKEN BONDS. 


Americans, and, as a matter of course, we met 
people we knew and renewed on more cordial 
terms the acquaintance which, at home, had 
gone no further than a distant nod of recogni- 
tion. We were drawn into gayeties which at 
least one of us would have been thankful to 
have avoided. There was a grim satisfaction 
to Arthur in those days in brooding over the 
memory of her least word. Once he confessed 
to me that at times it almost angered him to 
be obliged to carry on a conversation with me, 
for when undisturbed he could, by the intense 
concentration of his thoughts, conjure up a 
vivid brain picture of the woman he loved ; he 
could see again her fair young face, he could 
hear the pleasant voice, while the eyes once 
more stirred his soul with their wonderful 
influence and the touch of the hand that was 
lost would thrill his whole being with the 
ecstasy he would know no more save in dreams 
like this. 

It was an unhealthy morbid state, and I 
urged him not to yield to it. I could see a 
change in him from week to week ; the circles 
under his eyes grew darker ; he was always 
pale now, and the far off vacant look was habit- 
ual with him. He had given up all hope, and 
very sensibly too, I thought, but the knowledge 
that no human effort could avail did not lessen 
his grief. 


BROKEN BONDS. 


229 


At length, one morning we mutually agreed 
that we had had enough of picture galleries 
and balls and receptions; we packed up and 
took the train for Rome. 

If I were writing “ A Tour in Europe,” or 
“ The Diary of a Maiden Lady Abroad,” I 
should give you a conscientious description of 
the Italian cities and the inhabitants as I saw 
them. You would probably not thank me for 
the digression, and to say the truth, I was not 
particularly impressed ; I had seen it all before, 
when I had religiously visited every thing set 
down in the guide books as worth seeing, 
and the edge was taken from my curiosity. 
We lingered in Rome until the impulse to 
wander again seized us and we journeyed to 
Naples. During the entire trip nothing of 
moment had occurred, and I was only waiting 
and longing for the time when Arthur should 
at last say he was tired of this aimless drifting 
and would go back to America and resume the 
old life. 

One day a letter came from Jack; its con- 
tents sent us north with all speed ; he wrote 
that Purvie had been demanding sums of 
money and had finally come to Stuttgart and 
extorted from Mrs. Brainard a large amount ; 
he was half drunk, and, as Jack expressed it, 
was a total wreck ; ” they had made such a row 
with him for threatening to throw him down 


230 


BROKEN BONDS. 


stairs, that he dared not offer to interfere again, 
but couldn’t I suggest something ? Alice was 
in a terrible state, was going around the house 
looking pale and ill, but for all that trying to 
comfort her mother, who was crying half the 
time. 

I handed the letter to Arthur ; he read it, and 
the look I had seen in his face that day in Nice 
was there again. 

“ We’ll go to Stuttgart, Van. This thing has 
gone far enough ; come what may, now, I shall 
stop it.” 

I made no attempt to thwart him. I, too, 
felt that it must be stopped, but why had they 
yielded to his demands? We could neither of 
us understand it. We were agreed that there 
was some mystery. 

It was now eight weeks since we had left 
Nice; many circumstances changing the aspect 
of affairs might have occurred in that time. 
Jack would tell us what had transpired. 

It was a weary monotonous ride back over 
all the ground we had so recently traversed. I 
should have been glad to break it by stopping 
at reasonable distances for a night’s rest, but 
before Arthur was one objective point, and 
between Naples and our destination he saw 
nothing but the unavoidable lapse of time ; 
while I could not lose sight of the fatigue and 
annoyance. He met my objections invariably 


BROKEN BONDS. 


231 


by asking me if I wanted to leave her at Pur- 
views mercy. 

Even railway journeys in Europe, when the 
weather is any thing but mild, at last come to 
an end, and after Arthur had growled himself 
into a fever at the snail’s pace of the train and 
the frequent stoppages, we at length came to 
a final stop in the large station at Stuttgart. 

We engaged rooms in the Hotel Marquardt, 
my friend being careful to secure those “ giving 
on the street” — I guessed, in order that he 
might see her, should she fortunately pass. 
We had talked it over as we traveled north- 
ward, and had arrived at the conclusion that 
he must remain a close prisoner during the 
hours Alice usually went out, and that she was 
to be kept in ignorance of his presence in the 
city. A meeting would be painful to both of 
them, and if it were known he had visited her 
the bitter tongue of scandal would bruit the 
news abroad with damaging embellishments. 
When I had changed my travel-stained clothes 
for more presentable and comfortable garments, 
being urged the while not to be so confoundedly 
slow, I sallied forth in search of the Brainards. 
I had not far to go, for, as I descended the 
steps of the hotel and reached the side-walk, I 
saw Jack Elmer directly opposite just emerging 
from the Arcade, looking as jaunty and care- 
less as ever, a thick cane in his hand and a 


232 


BROKEN BONDS. 


cigar in his mouth. He did not observe me, 
but, turning to the left, sauntered up the street 
at a gait which indicated that he had no inten- 
tion of following the example of the man who 
died in a hurry. I called “Jack!" He turned 
quickly, gave a surprised exclamation, and his 
face was a burst of smiles, as he ran across the 
street and seized my hands. For a moment 
he could not utter an intelligible sound. 

“ Well, Jack, I am as glad to be here as you 
are to see me ; how are Alice and your aunt ? " 

“ If this isn’t a big surprise. How’d you get 
here? No, I don’t mean that. When did you 
come ? Lord 1 won’t they be glad to see you ; 
yes, they’re well — that is, pretty well ; don’t 
have the doctor, you know ; but, great Scott 1 
ain’t they cheerful ! ’’ 

“ You know, you wrote me two letters. Jack.’’ 

“Yes, and you didn’t hurt yourself answering 
them, did you ?’’ 

“ I did not reply to you because I was with 
Arthur, and I thought there was no chance of 
getting here, and I did not want you to ask me 
point blank to come, for then I should have 
felt obliged to.’’ 

“ Arthur’s back in New York, is he ? ’’ 

“Oh! you didn’t know of course. I’ve been 
over here nine weeks with him.’’ 

Jack looked at me with open-eyed amaze- 
ment; 


BROKEN BONDS. 


“ The deuce you have ; where have you been 
staying? ” 

“We’ve been traveling pretty constantly.” 

“ Where’s Arthur now ? ” 

“ He is here.” 

“What?” he gasped. “Come on, take me 
to him,” he cried eagerly, seizing my arm. 

We went into the hotel and ascended to our 
rooms. I entered first. Arthur was at the 
window looking out to catch a glimpse of her 
perhaps. “ Here’s an old friend of yours,” I 
said. 

Jack ran past me, and the two shook hands 
and looked into each other’s faces as if they had 
been brothers, instead of recent friends only. 
If Jack’s pleasure at seeing me was great, his 
delight at once more looking upon Arthur was 
ten times greater. 

“ Well,” he said earnestly, “ if it don’t seem 
like old times to shake hands with you ; how 
long you going to stay?” he inquired a little 
anxiously, still retaining Arthur’s hand, and 
looking with a glad expression into his eyes. 

“ I can not tell. Jack; I have come to be of 
use if I can, and I shall remain as long as neces- 
sary. Now, old man, sft down, have a cigar; 
here’s a light. Tell me, how are you all ?” 

The other understood the question : “ She is 
all right ; of course she isn’t happy, you know, 
but she’s well.” 


234 


BROKEN BONDS. 


Arthur was standing with his elbow on the 
mantle ; he attentively regarded the end of his 
cigar, and carefully flipped the ash off, as he 
inquired, “ Has — has that — scoundrel seen her 
again ? ” 

“No, not since that time when he was here 
and got that lot of money out of aunt. I sup- 
pose it’ll last him a while.” 

“ Has he written ? ” 

“ No, I think not. He told Alice as his last 
letter had not produced any effect, he should 
come for money in future when he wanted it. 
He went on terribly at her. She begged him 
not to come again. She was crying all the 
while. He said he would come, because he had 
found out it annoyed her. I heard her crying, 
and went into the room and commenced to tell 
him what I thought of him, but Alice stopped 
me, and begged me in a whisper to leave them 
alone together. Well, you know, nobody can 
resist her, so I went out, but I’d have given 
any thing to have thrown him out. I don’t see 
why they keep giving him money 1 ” 

“ Don’t you know the reason either ? ” 

“ No.” 

Arthur turned to me, “Van, he must have 
used some threat ; will you find out what it is? 
Jack, I want you to promise not to say a word 
about my being here, not to utter a syllable 
that will give them a hint of it.” The boy 


BROICEN BONDS. 


*35 

was visibly disappointed : “ Not even to 

Alice?” 

Above all, not to her.” 

“ What the mischief did you come here for, 
if you don’t want to see her?” 

“ I will tell you. When we heard through 
your letter that Purvie had been here, I knew 
he would come again as soon as his funds were 
exhausted. I knew also, that he must have 
found some means of intimidating your aunt 
and — her, into complying unhesitatingly with 
his demands. I think I understand his nature 
well enough to be sure that those demands 
would grow more exacting and less bearable as 
he found he could make them with impunity, 
and I have come here to put an end to this 
outrage by some means — I care not what. 
When he comes again I want you to inform 
me instantly, and I will find a way to render 
him harmless for the future.” He spoke calmly, 
deliberately, but again that dangerous hardness 
stole into his face and made me anxious to see 
Mrs. Brainard and make Arthur’s interference 
unnecessary. 

“You can bet, I’ll let you know the minute 
he sets foot in the house. How I’d like to see 
you thrash him,” Jack said with enthusiasm. 

“ What do you find to amuse yourselves 
with ? ” 

“ We are not having a lively time. We 


236 BROKErj BONDS. 

drive a good deal, and I have been to the opera, 
and just over there, there’s a place where I go 
for my beer every afternoon — I’ve settled down 
into a regular Dutchman ; it was w'orse when 
we first got here, but I’ve picked up a little of 
the language and manage to get along ; it isn’t 
America though. I asked aunt the other day, 
why she staid here. She said we couldn’t go 
back to New York and face people’s questions. 
I wish you’d try to persuade her to pull up 
stakes and go somewhere else. Van.” 

“ I will, and now, if the ladies are at home, 
suppose you take me to them.” 

Their apartments were not far from our hotel, 
and a walk of perhaps ten minutes brought us 
to the door. Jack led the way into the recep- 
tion room, and left me to announce “ a friend ” ; 
he would not tell them who it was, he said, 
he wanted to surprise them. 

Mrs. Brainard came in first. I believe she 
was unfeignedly glad to see me. “ It is so 
good,” she said, to see a face from home. We 
owe you so much, and I have not had an oppor- 
tunity to thank you for all you did ; I think 
you know we are grateful ; it seems hard, that 
your letter should have arrived too late.” 

“Can nothing be done? It would be easy 
to secure a divorce ; it might be arranged 
quietly, so that the world would still be in 
ignorance of the whole affair,” 


BROKEN BONDS. 237 

She sighed. “ I have thought of that, and 
would be willing, and I dare say money would 
buy his promise not to oppose the proceedings, 
but Alice looks at the matter in a peculiar 
light ; she says she believes that once the words 
are spoken which make two people man and 
wife, they can never, in the sight of heaven, be 
separated by human means ; that is what she 
always says, and I fear nothing will move her. 
She acknowledges the tie, but will not bear his 
name, and shrinks from him and from all men- 
tion of him, as if he were utterly abhorrent to 
her. What can I do ? ” 

The sad earnestness of her tones distressed 
me ; I was about to ask her, if she thought 
any thing I might say would change her deter- 
mination, when the door opened and Alice 
came in ; she advanced a few steps and paused, 
as if overcome by surprise ; “ Is it really you,” 

she said, “ I am so glad to see you. Can you 
forgive me? ” 

I rose and took her hand. 

“ Why there is nothing to forgive.” I was a 
little puzzled. 

“ Oh ! yes, there is,” she insisted, smiling 
faintly, “ there are lots of things.” A shade 
passed over her face. “There is my lack of faith 
in your friend, my untruthfulness to you, and 
my rudeness that night at our house ; but let 
us talk of more cheerful subjects,” she contin- 


BROKEN BONDS. 


238 

ued, making a brave effort at gayety. When 
did you arrive, and where did you come from 
last, and how long since you left home ? 

‘‘To reply to your last question first, I left 
New York about eleven weeks ago, I came last 
from Naples, and I arrived here two hours ago.” 

“So long! You came for pleasure, I pre- 
sume ? ” 

“ Well — not exactly, though I have not found 
the trip altogether unpleasant.” 

“ Have you been traveling — alone?” 

She was looking down, I fancied her cheek 
had paled a little. I must give a direct answer 
to that question, but come what would, I was 
determined not to tell her he was here : 

“ I have been with Arthur Wardwell ever 
since my arrival in Paris, over nine weeks 
ago.” 

She looked me straight in the face : 

“ Is — is he with you here?” 

“No,” I said, firmly. As I uttered the 
falsehood, I felt my face grow hot. Did she 
suspect I had not spoken the truth ? I could 
not tell. 

“ Is he quite well ? ” she asked, hesitatingly ; 
I quite unintentionally paused an instant, and 
she clasped her hands and her breath came 
quicker and her eyes grew big with a pained 
anxiety. 

“ Yes, but he has changed. I think he has 


BROKEN BONDS. 239 

grown years older in the past two months.’' 
As I looked at her, so, I thought, had she ; it was 
not that the touch of time’s withering hand had 
fallen upon her, but into the face that had 
been so carelessly happy, had come an expres- 
sion of weary, patient endurance ; she was 
wonderfully beautiful, but it was now the half- 
sad face of a Madonna, her eyes seemed to 
me to look beyond this life’s concerns into 
another existence. How few short years she 
had lived, to have found out already that the 
world held nothing which could bring her joy ! 
She did not pursue the subject, and soon I 
found myself giving dry particulars of our trav- 
els. How quietly she listened ! how little she 
said ! Her whole air was as if misfortune had 
crushed her; and yet, I reflected, half inclined 
to be angry with her, how easily she could cast 
him off! With the evidence I had of his dis- 
graceful connection with that French woman, it 
would only be a question of a few necessary 
formalities and she would be free. In a 
moment of thoughtlessness, I alluded to our 
visit to Nice, and on her mother’s asking me if 
I had seen ‘ that man ’ there, she pleaded indis- 
position and left us, expressing the hope that 
they would see me every day while I remained 
in the town. 

“You see,” her mother said, “how it has 
changed her, and to think that all her life she 


245 BROKEN BONDS. 

must suffer from his persecution ! it is enough 
to shake one’s faith.” 

“ Mrs. Brainard, there is a question I have 
been wanting to ask you ever since I received 
J ack’s first letter : What threat does the wretch 
use to extort money from you ? ” 

‘‘ Had you not guessed the means such a 
creature would employ ? He says that if Alice 
does not comply with every request he makes, 
he will enforce his rights as her husband, and 
we dare not refuse. He is the most contempt- 
ible villain that ever lived,” she went on scorn- 
fully, but she is in his power ; when her fortune 
is exhausted mine will go too, and then God 
help us ! he will take what is dearer to me than 
all the gold in the world ! ” She hastily drew 
her handkerchief from her pocket, and turning 
from me walked to the window. 

I was astounded to learn that this bare-faced 
scamp had had the assurance to practice such 
a puerile trick ; he calculated that he could 
frighten two helpless women, alone in a strange 
land, into easy compliance. 

“ Mrs. Brainard — ” 

She said in a tremulous voice, “ What is it ?” 

“You need not have given that scoundrel 
one penny.” 

She turned round and regarded me in amazed 
silence. 

“ No,” I repeated, “ not one penny. When he 


BROKEN BONDS. 


241 


asks for more money, simply refer him to your 
lawyer.” 

“ What do you mean ?” 

“ His life^ince the wedding makes any claim 
from him absurd, and you would only have to 
threaten him with a suit for divorce ; he will 
insist no longer.*^’ 

“You don’t know how grateful I am to you 
for taking this load from my mind. You have 
been so good to us ; I can never thank you 
sufficiently.” 

She took my hand, and I was ashamed to 
think how undeserving I was of such unstinted 
gratitude. The sudden transition from gloomy 
forebodings of the future to the thoughts of 
relief from that fiend’s importunity made her 
positively radiant. She could hardly yet real- 
ize the full import of the good news. “You 
say we may actually defy him ? ” she said, in- 
quiringly. 

“ Certainly.” 

The positiveness of my reply convinced her. 

Jack returned, and promising to see them the 
next day, and begging she would command me 
in any thing if I could serve them, we went 
out. 

I repeated to Jack on the way back to the 
hotel what I had said to his aunt, and it may 
be imagined he was delighted. 

“ Don’t be too confident that the trouble is 


242 


BROKEN BONDS. 


all over yet,” I said ; “the loss of all chance of 
getting money is worse to such a fellow than 
the loss of his soul ; I am not sure he won’t try 
something desperate.” * 

“ He’d better not if Arthur is here the next 
time he comes.” 

I made no reply to this ; I had no great con- 
fidence in what my friend could do. I was 
fearful, too, that he might be guilty of rash- 
ness, which would only create a scandal. 

I recounted to Arthur what had occurred, 
telling him over and over again all that con- 
cerned Alice. Did I think her changed, was 
she happy, or sad, had she spoken of him, what 
was it she said, again ? So he learned the lit- 
tle there was for his heart to feed upon, until I 
should see her once more. 


XV. 


J ACK was back and forth a dozen times a 
day ; I think fully half of his leisure was 
spent in our rooms ; this was a boon to Arthur, 
but even with our companionship, he said the 
sense of being kept a close prisoner gave him 
an idea of what the despair must be of a con- 
vict sentenced to imprisonment for life ; he 
dared not sit too much at the window for fear 
she might, in passing, recognize him ; not until 
the evening was he free to leave the house. 
He fretted inwardly at the restraint, the idea 
of her proximity, and the impossibility of their 
meeting, galling him to the verge of rashly re- 
solving to risk every thing and seek an inter- 
view. 

One day I asked him if he had seen her. No, 
he had not ; she must never walk in this direc- 
tion, he could swear she had not once passed 
the hotel. Wouldn’t I try again to find out 
when she was in the habit of going out, and in 
what direction she usually walked ? 

That afternoon I told him if he wanted so 
much to see her from a distance, and did not 
mind running a little risk of being discovered, 
I thought I could suggest a plan ; he was eager 


244 


BROKEN BONDS. 


to know the details, and I explained that she 
and her mother were going for a drive in 
about an hour, and the weather being unusually 
mild for that time of year, would take an open 
carriage ; I knew the direction they would take, 
and, by posting himself at the corner of a cer- 
tain street, where there was a cafe, he could ob- 
tain a glimpse of her as they passed on their 
return. 

Half an hour before there was the remotest 
possibility of their getting back, he was at his 
post waiting with beating heart. At last they 
rolled by and he saw again the face that was 
always before him, and, for the moment, he was 
satisfied ; but I think that little glimpse of 
heaven made it more difficult for me to restrain 
him from attempting to scale the barriers of 
conventional propriety. 

Every evening, after devoting an hour or two 
to a stroll with Jack and me, when it grew late 
he would station himself opposite the window 
I had told him was hers and watch the shadow 
on the curtain ; sometimes he would come back 
elated, and I knew he would tell me he had, by 
good luck, seen her face indistinctly for a 
moment as she had arranged the draperies : it 
was pitiful. 

It was on a Tuesday; we had been there I 
think about a week. Arthur and I were smoking 
our after dinner cigar and trying to find some 


BROKEN BONDS. 


245 


new point of view from which to survey the 
situation. The door was thrown open violently 
and Jack almost fell into the room ; he was 
wildly excited. 

Hurry up,” he panted, “if you want to see 
him ; he's there ! ” 

Arthur had jumped up, snatched his hat and 
rushed out, closely followed by Jack, before I 
fairly comprehended that Purvie had arrived. 
There would be another encounter, and this 
time more than words would come of it. 
Arthur’s frame of mind was dangerous. These 
thoughts occurred to me while I was drawing 
on my coat, and preparing to follow him ; I 
would not of course let them come together 
while I was absent if I could prevent it. 

When I reached the street they were nowhere 
in sight — they must have run I thought. I fol- 
lowed more leisurely. I knew Arthur's idea had 
been to meet Purvie as he came out, so there 
was no hurry after all. 

When they had left me Jack said Purvie was 
alone with Alice in the reception room, and 
they were having high words, — that wasn't 
more than five minutes ago. “ Come on,” 
said Arthur, setting his teeth together, and they 
had redoubled their pace. Arrived at the house 
he stopped for an instant and inquired, “ Is there 
a place where I can hear without being seen ?” 

Yes, this way.” 


246 


BROKEN BONDS. 


They ascended the stairs softly and stood just 
outside the door. Alice was speaking ; her voice 
had a ring of distress that was almost plaintive 
— “ But you once said you loved me. Will you 
not for the sake of that love cease persecuting 
me ? Do you not see you are driving me to 
distraction? I can not give you all we have in 
the world, but I will send you a stated sum 
every month, will not that content you ? ” 

“ No ! ” he exclaimed in a loud, grating tone. 
“ What’s yours is mine, do you understand ? 
And I’ve told you often enough that if you 
don’t come down with all the money I want I’ll 
make you live with me. Don’t shudder ! that’s 
what makes me mad ; you think you’re too good 
for me, and I’ve had about enough of your airs. 
You’ll either give me two thousand pounds 
to-morrow or I’ll force you to keep the promises 
you made when you married me.” 

Her voice changed ; it was proud and scorn- 
ful now. “ I have patiently listened to your 
threats and abuses ; I have offered to give you 
money — you have declined it. Now I tell you 
to leave this house instantly. Your assertion 
that you can enforce your rights as my husband 
is an empty boast. I shall never again give 
you one penny, and if you force your way into 
my presence my servants will show you the 
door.” 

The watchers in the hall heard an angry 


BROKEN BONDS. 


247 


exclamation, followed by the noise of some one 
rising and stepping across the floor ; then came 
a slight cry of pain ; Purvie’s voice was again 
raised, this time in a hissing burst of anger. 

That’s it, is it ? You she-devil ! You want 
to get rid of me, and you think I don’t know 
for what. If you refuse to give me that money, 
before one week every one will know that you 
don’t live with your husband because you pre- 
fer your lover.” 

There was a rush of hurrying feet and before 
he could look round a strong hand was on his 
throat, and he was sent whirling to the other 
end of the room, where he fell over a chair with 
a crash, and sank down by the wall a limp, 
scared mass. 

Alice, relieved from the grasp of his hand, 
stood before Arthur gazing with wondering 
surprise into his face. “Arthur,” she uttered 
faintly, a word died on her lips, and she sank 
unconscious into his arms. He looked at her 
for a moment as he held her, all the longing of 
his soul shining in his eyes ; the sight made his 
blood boil ; he tenderly placed her on a lounge 
and advanced toward Purvie, who had regained 
his feet and was standing white and scared, 
somewhat as he had done, Arthur thought, when 
the horse had thrown him, and his cowardice 
had first become apparent. It is a curious fact 
that however great the provocation, strong 


248 


BROKEN BONDS. 


natures hesitate to strike a coward ; it was that 
feeling which saved Purvie, for in the heat of 
passionate indignation at the violence Alice 
had suffered, Arthur was capable of strangling 
him. 

As the two men confronted each other, the 
one trembling with rage, the other cowering 
apprehensively, Mrs. Brainard came hurriedly 
into the room and went directly to Alice. 
Arthur approached her, and stooping over, 
said. 

Forgive me for coming here, I did it for 
her sake. Perhaps I was wrong. I feared that 
brute would insult her — I go away to-night — 
shall never see her again — nor will he.” 

She rose and gave him her hand. “ If it had 
only been you ! ” she said, regretfully. 

‘‘ My God ! ” he broke out, “ how I love 
her!” he was on his knees and had taken the 
hand which hung helplessly over the side of the 
lounge ; he bent his head, hesitated, and looked 
up at the mother ; she understood him and 
nodded: he kissed the hand, and when he 
released it a tear glistened there. 

Farewell ! ” he said, and turned to Purvie a 
face cruelly stern. “ Come ! ” 

The three, he and Jack and the crestfallen 
Purvie, went out together. I joined them as 
they emerged from the house. If I had seen 
Purvie somewhere where I had not expected 


BROKEN BONDS. 


249 


to find him I think I would not have known 
him. His appearance shocked me. It was not 
that his dress was less neat, but his face had 
every characteristic of the confirmed drunkard ; 
the bleared eyes, the blotched and swollen 
cheeks, the red nose, and the extreme emacia- 
tion which everywhere, except in his face, had 
changed him to something but little more sub- 
stantial than a shadow. It was a strange situ- 
tion as we stood grouped on the walk. Arthur 
still wore the threatening look ; he regarded 
Purvie loweringly, as he said with concentrated 
earnestness : — 

“ I do not make idle threats, and what I am 
about to say I mean. If you again seek an 
interview with her, or in any way annoy her — 
in any way!” he repeated impressively, “as 
sure as there is a God I will publicly thrash 
you ! And if I hear from any source one word 
against her good name, I will credit you with 
having put the He in circulation and will call 
you to account.” 

The other answered not a word, but with as 
erect a carriage as his evident fear would per- 
mit him to assume he walked down the street 
and passed out of sight. We never saw him 
again. 

Arthur broke down ; the strain of passion 
being removed his nerves gave way ; he turned 
from us muttering — “ It is all over — all over ! ” 


250 BROKEN BONDS. 

We let him go on alone and we followed, 
not any too gayly. 

That night Jack bade us good-by forlornly 
and we left Stuttgart. We were going to 
Munich. 

The history of the next six weeks is soon 
and easily told ; it was marked by no event 
which at this distance of time comes back to 
me vividly enough to be worthy of record here. 
We were wanderers again : seeking nothing that 
was attainable, but mildly interested in the old 
things we had seen and the few new ones the 
slower progress of the old world civilization 
had created since our former visit. We met 
many acquaintances ; some we were glad to 
greet, and others whose society we could easily 
have dispensed with ; there were interesting 
types among them, now that they were removed 
from the setting of their native surroundings, 
but as nothing they did, or said, or thought, 
has any bearing on the fortunes or character of 
the actors in this story, they shall, in mercy to 
the reader, be rigidly excluded. 

We idled the time away with sketching and 
riding and billiards, and a little society ; a very 
little of the latter, for Arthur had grown too 
hard and cynical to be altogether agreeable. I 
remember we went from Munich to Venice, and 
soon tiring of that, to Vienna ; we remained 
there but a short time, being drawn westward 


Broken bonds. 2 5 1 

by the consciousness that after all nothing in 
Europe quite equals the scenery and the luxuri- 
ous convenience of Switzerland. 

If it had been possible for me to feel entirely 
indifferent to my friend’s grief, I think I should 
esteem the few days spent at Seelisberg on 
Lake Lucerne the most perfect the earth had 
ever yielded me. Now that my mind is at 
ease, I wonder that I could at Arthur’s sug- 
gestion have been persuaded to leave the 
place. From time to time I received letters from 
Jack; they had left Stuttgart two days after 
Purvie’s last visit, and had gone to Paris, after- 
ward to Ems and Wiesbaden, and according to 
a recent letter, which was dated from the latter 
place, were about starting for Zurich. They 
were well, and his cousin and aunt were more 
tranquil ; they had neither seen nor heard 
any thing more of “ that scoundrel.” Jack was 
having a glorious time and had not wanted to 
leave Paris : he supposed Switzerland “ wasn’t 
bad though ; ” he hoped they would meet us 
somewhere. 

I got that letter on the first of July ; on the 
third we were in Lucerne. I have good rea- 
sons for being positive as to the exact date ; 
on that day, after breakfast, as my friend and 
I were going out for a walk a newspaper with 
my name on the wrapper was handed to me. 
It was an issue of the New York Herald ” of 


252 BROKEN BONDS. 

June the tenth. I hastily glanced through it 
and observed that a paragraph among the 
“ Foreign Intelligence” had been marked with 
a red pencil. It was headed in large capitals : 

“THE LATEST SENSATION IN NICE.” 

“SUICIDE FOLLOWS UNREQUITED LOVE.” 

“A young man by the name of Philo. D. 
Purvie, who is well known in the best circles of 
New York society, fell in love with a charming 
widow, a Mrs. Plaquemine, from New Orleans, a 
Creole of enormous wealth. The lady, it is said, 
did not return his affection, and when she went 
away, a week ago, with a very young English- 
man, Lord Rico, leaving a cruel note for her 
distracted adorer, his despair at losing forever 
the object of his passion unsettled his intellect, 
and to drown his sorrow he had recourse to 
drink. Last night, after returning from Monaco, 
where he was observed to be both drinking 
and losing heavily, he purchased two ounces of 
laudanum, and retiring to his apartments, swal- 
lowed half of it after writing a short incoherent 
note, in which he said his life had been a mistake, 
that he had realized it too late, and having lost 
the only woman he ever cared for there was no 
inducement to live longer. 

“ This morning he was found in his bed, 
dead. In his hand was a photograph of the 


Broken bonds. 


253 


woman for whom he had rashly sacrificed his 
life, and on a table was the half-emptied bot- 
tle of laudanum. 

“ The affair has created but little stir in so- 
ciety here, as the deceased had few friends and 
no intimates in this city.” 

It is probably wrong to feel happy at the 
death of a fellow creature, and is usually con- 
sidered reprehensible unless it be a rich relative 
who has lived too long, but I must confess to 
experiencing a sense of joyous relief at the 
demise of our common enemy that no other 
happening I can remember ever brought with 
it. In these few printed lines was freedom for 
Alice and happiness at last for her and Arthur 
and all of us. I could have blessed the suicide 
for the great service he had rendered us. I 
was on the point of turning to Arthur and 
showing him the paper when I remembered that 
twice before false reports had brought upon 
him the trouble of his life, and perhaps this 
also was simply a trick. I telegraphed to the 
proprietor of the hotel in Nice where Purvie 
had been stopping, asking if a man by the name 
of Philo. D. Purvie had committed suicide in 
his house five weeks ago. In an hour the an- 
swer came, ‘^Yes. His effects are still un- 
claimed.” 

Arthur came back from his walk, and said, in 
a determined, settled tone : 


254 


BROKEN BONDS. 


“ Well, Van, you will be pleased to hear that 
I have decided to return home. I can stand 
this life no longer.’’ 

“ I want you to stay here, now.” 

He was puzzled. “Why, you have been 
urging me constantly to go back.” 

“ There is no reason for it now.’’ 

He grew pale. “What do you mean,” he 
asked faintly. 

I handed him the paper and the telegram ; he 
read them and sank into a chair. 

“Van — this — Alice — will — ” he could not go 
on, his chest heaved, his emotion was choking 
him: in charity I turned away. The swift trans- 
ition from the long accumulated despondency, 
and the settled conviction that nothing which 
could possibly happen would ever in this life 
bring fulfillment to his now relinquished hopes, 
to the knowledge, coming to him all in an 
instant, that every hindrance to the realization 
of his dreams was swept away, was too much 
for him. He had bravely withstood the mis- 
fortunes which fate had been showering upon 
him ; the wounds had evoked no murmur, but 
what grief had failed to do joy had accom- 
plished, and at last he buried his face in his 
arm and cried like a child. I feel no shame in 
recording that my eyes might have been less 
moist, as I stole a glance at this strong, self- 
contained nature so deeply moved by the sud- 


BROKEN BONDS. 


255 


den joy. A portion of the relief he felt I 
experienced in a much fainter degree, and a 
little of the happy anticipation was mine also. 

During the next few days, I sometimes 
caught myself wondering that nature should 
wear so different an aspect, that the people who a 
week ago had bored and annoyed me should be 
transformed into the pleasantest fellows in the 
world, that petty vexations should no longer 
seem like real troubles, and that the impression 
that all the world was against my friend and 
myself had vanished, and, in its place, was a 
peaceful contentment which was shared by 
both of us. 

You will be asking why we did not fly to the 
Brainards without loss of time. The explana- 
tion is simple: We did not know where they 
were. They had started for Switzerland, but 
they might be in any one of a hundred differ- 
ent places. The best plan would be to wait as 
patiently as possible for Jack’s next letter, and 
this we did, remaining in Lucerne ; it came, 
after Arthur’s impatience had begun to evince 
itself in an alert nervousness and the consump- 
tion of double the usual number of cigars. He 
immediately became serene again, when he read 
that they were at Berne and would be in Lucerne 
the following day. Of course we would wait 
for them. How he got through the hours that 
must intervene now before he should see her 


256 


BROKEN BONDS. 


is best known to himself ; he studiously shunned 
my society. After breakfast the next morn- 
ing I was watching the people embark on the 
boat for Vitznau, when he joined me. 

I have made inquiries at the office,” he 
said, vigorously puffing at his cigar, ^‘and find 
there is a train arriving from Berne at seven 
o’clock : I want to say a word to you about my 
meeting with her — I want you to let me see 
her first alone, I — I would rather explain every 
thing myself, if you don’t mind.” That mat- 
ter was settled and he left me again. 

The day wore on and at length half past 
seven came, and from my window I saw them 
arrive. I went into Arthur’s room to tell him 
they had come ; he was cautiously peering 
out ; “ I know it,” he said, and turned toward 
me a pale face fairly illuminated by the unnat- 
ural brightness of the eyes. In half an hour 
he sent an attendant to their room with one of 
my cards and a message to the effect that the 
gentleman desired to see Miss Brainard alone 
for a few moments ; he brought back the reply 
that she would receive the gentleman at once. 
Arthur’s whole life depended upon the next 
quarter of an hour, and he looked as if he 
understood it as he walked out of the room. 
The door was indicated to him ; he says he 
paused an instant to gather courage for the 
ordeal ; he knocked and entered ; there she 


BROKEN BONDS. 


*57 


stood directly opposite to him, the light from 
the chandelier falling upon her startled face ; 
she raised her arms in quick surprise, “ You,” 
she murmured faintly, taking a step backward, 
then, as he advanced his eyes fell upon her 
face, she looked and it seemed that some irre- 
sistible force drew her toward him ; her breath 
came quick and short ; the love that was there, 
the passion she had tried to smother at last 
found expression, “Arthur,” she cried softly, 
tenderly ; he went quickly toward her, “ My 
darling,” he whispered hoarsely. His arms were 
almost round her, when, uttering a startled 
cry, she recoiled, half turning from him, and 
with a quick gesture pushed back his hand. 
“ No, no, no,” she said, with earnest insistance, 
as if fearful that her love might make her 
weaker than her conscience told her she could 
dare to be, “ it is wrong, wrong. Oh ! to think 
\.\\dX you should do this thing,” she turned upon 
him a look of tearful reproach. 

That look brought back a little of the reason 
which had been swallowed up in the intoxica- 
tion of being once more in her dear presence ; 
there she was, actually standing not ten feet 
from him, as beautiful, as maddeningly lovely 
as only she could be, and this was no dream, 
for he had heard her call him “ Arthur.” Yes, 
yes, it was real, it was true, true that she loved 
him, and that he might love her and might tell 


BROKEN BONDS. 


258 

her so, that was it ; he must tell her so : 
“ Alice, Alice, my darling,” how he lingered on 
the words ! She stopped him with a gesture, 
drawing herself up, and said almost coldly, while 
her hands clasped and unclasped themselves 
writhingly : “ Arthur, do you know that while 
I am that man’s wife, what you have said to 
me is an insult?” Her lip quivered and her 
eyes filled with tears as she continued, brokenly, 
“ I shall never see you again, and I can tell you 
now — it will do no harm — that I have been 
guilty enough to love you very dearly- — No, 
stop ! I wish I had died before you had struck 
me the cruelest blow I have had to suffer. For 
God’s sake leave me now ! ” 

Alice,” he burst out exulting, ‘^you are 
free ! ” 

She turned swiftly, doubt and expectancy in 
her wide open eyes, as she leaned eagerly for- 
ward. 

He is dead,” he said, quickly. A little con- 
vulsive sound came from between her parted 
lips and she was in his arms, her cheek was 
pressed against his shoulder ; she looked up 
tenderly — all the love that had waited so long, 
in her swimming eyes. As he bent his head 
and she saw the happiness there, the past 
seemed a dream ; her arm stole softly around 
his neck. Their lives were complete. 

TfiE END, 



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